Gulch to Remnant
by DarkAkatsuk1
Summary: Disastrous. Such a beautiful word that spells more than one can imagine. Yet it is enough to describe what would happen if two teams of misfit 'soldiers' aspire to become Huntsmen at the prestigious Beacon Academy. Huh. Weird, isn't it?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Red vs. Blue nor do I own RWBY. I'm a little late to the whole RWBY party, aren't I?

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

On top of an unidentified building, two young men sat over the edge with a case containing an assortment of sodas and alcohol. One is tall and lanky, dressed in a maroon blazer over a white shirt and matching pants, with combed back hair and a prim set of glasses hanging down under his eyes. He appears to be in thought as of the moment.

The other contrasted the former drastically, with a casual orange t-shirt and worn jeans, with unruly stubble littering around his mouth. With his current eating habit, he should have appeared obese, yet somehow manages to appear in shape all the time, and is currently taking a drag from a cigarette.

"Hey," The maroon-suited boy suddenly called out to his partner.

"…Myeah?"

He hesitated for a moment, but asked, "You ever wonder why we're here?"

The orange-clad teenager released an explosive sigh, along with tobacco-laced smoke. "You know, Simmons, I ask that question every day, every night. Why are we here?" He gestured the arm holding the cigarette towards the landscape. "In this Grimm-infested world, both Humans and Faunus fight each day for survival against the enemy, but for what purpose? Is the planet trying to send a message to us, like, we're not welcome here, so they send the Grimm's to kill us or something? Or, are we actually a disease that Remnant is trying to flush out like an immune system? I dunno, man, but it keeps me up at night."

"…"

"…"

"…The fuck? I mean, why are we here in Vale, when we could be back in Gulch where things were simple?"

"Oh… uh…"

"And what was that thing about our whole existence being a disease?"

"Uh… hm? Nothing."

"…You wanna talk about it?"

"No, no, I'm good."

"…You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

There was an awkward pause before the now-named Simmons continued,

"Seriously, though. Why are we here? I don't even understand Vale anymore. Everywhere I go, I see at least one or two things that is somehow related to a gun. That notepad that officer was holding earlier? It's a gun. That sword that hunter guy had passing by a few seconds ago? Gun. That trashcan right there? Gun." He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Next thing you know, some asshole out there has a girl that's a gun, or has a gun that shoots guns. Can you imagine that?"

"Yeah, gun stuff. All I got was Sarge rambling about a recommendation letter to teach at Beacon Academy, and was allowed to bring two others with him as student assistants. Does that mean anything?" Grif gave his two cents.

"Whoop-de-fucking-do," Simmons remarked disinterestedly.

"Speaking of which, check out this kickass sword and gun I picked up earlier today!" Grif took out a handgun and a red accented sword shaped like a khopesh.

Simmons stared at the pair for two whole seconds. "Grif, just because you found a sword and a handgun lying around not in use doesn't mean it's automatically yours."

"No, asshole, I got these from my job interview."

"You? A job interview?" The disbelief in Simmon's voice was tangible, and then it got laced with sarcasm, "Grif, I had no idea you would one day be a responsible human being. Next, we can finally see you stop being a lard-ass."

"Fuhuck off, Simmons. I'm still gonna hold on to my reputation as a do-nothing slacker in front of Sarge, though, so don't tell him anything."

Simmons shrugged. That wasn't his business anyways. "So why are you still here?"

"Funny story, actually. I'm supposed to be a bouncer at a nearby club right now," Grif threw his cigarette off the building. "Instead, some blonde chick trashed the entire place from top to bottom, and now I'm stuck here, talking to you."

"Well, that explains why we're having this stupid conversation."

A sudden explosion resounded a good distance away, close by a shop hanged with the sign 'From Dust Till Dawn'. Grif and Simmons stared at the source of all the commotion dully and then looked at each other.

"…That wasn't my fault," Grif immediately stated.

"You don't suppose the Blues caused that, do you?" Simmons asked.

"I dunno, man. The last time we saw them was at Atlas, and… well, we may have trashed an entire district of the city because Sarge was raging like the senile old man he is about 'dirty Blues'. I thought it would be the only time to test out my new weapon."

"Grif, you almost accidentally assassinated the head of the Schnee Dust Company who had business in that city because you were trying to test out your new weapon!" Simmons shouted. In the distance, a plane managed to dodge the worst of a large arrow, and is flying away, but the two teens were too busy bickering to notice.

"Hey, I take offense to that! The Grifshot is not something used for such underhanded action!" Grif retorted in an offended tone. "It is used to kick ass and take names! The guy was just unfortunate enough to be alone without his bodyguards and be my first target!"

Simmons threw his hands up, "You know what? The less we talk about that day, the less I have to deal with your bullshit. At least we managed to get away scot free in the end, all thanks to Sarge."

"Yeah. And by scot free, you mean run like little bitches when several police cars and huntsmen chased after us. I'm surprised they didn't even get pictures of us," Grif remarked.

Simmons rolled up a sleeve to check what time it is, "Why do I have the feeling we're just gonna stand around and talk all night? And when is Sarge gonna call us? We have an Academy to attend tomorrow, and we're been here talking like we were back in the middle of that box canyon in Gulch with the Blues."

Grif sighed and got up to leave, scratching his butt in the process. "Fine, whatever. I was gonna fall asleep if you kept rambling anyways. See you tomorrow… or not. If Sarge calls, tell him I have a diet of food starting with vowels to keep."

Simmons sighed, "I think I'm starting to miss the old days when we just stand around and talk. I bet the Blues don't have the same problem as we do."

* * *

(few minutes earlier)

A teen sighed as he watched the TV, which is currently featuring ' _Tuning Your Sniper Rifle's Sights_ For Dummies'. This teen has black hair with shaved sides that is styled into a fohawk, and is dressed in a cobalt tanktop and pajama pants, and with unremarkable brown eyes. His build isn't muscular per se, but is toned enough to be called fit.

He doesn't know why, but somehow, someone always manages to screw with the sights whenever he isn't looking, and is trying to find a way to set it so that only he could fix it himself. In either case, it's quiet, he isn't pissed, Caboose hasn't somehow fucked something royally over, and tomorrow is gonna be the first day at Beacon Academy.

Today, is a good evening.

"For the last time, Caboose, I'm not a hot dog, and if you put ketchup on my fuckin' shirt again, I'm gonna kill you!" an irate voice yelled out from the shabby apartment.

"Tucker did it!" a childlike reply replied back.

" _I'm_ Tucker, idiot!"

…And the evening just got ruined by the shouts of his little group. Great.

"Yeah, keep saying that, Tucker. I'm sure the message will get through Caboose's head someday," the teen snarked, not taking his eyes off the TV.

"Fuck you, Church!" Tucker rushed out into the living room with a suitcase in hand. He appears as a well-built dark skinned teenager with a dreadlock ponytail, and is clad in a teal dress shirt with a black tie and black business pants. Ketchup stains could be seen on the shirt, despite being washed vigorously minutes ago. "I dunno how we managed to live for eleven years with this guy, but you'd think he learned common sense by then!"

"I think you're mistaking me for someone who gives a damn," Church remarked airily. "Also, try walking on that line of not knowing and not caring, Tucker. I like to think it works all the time."

"It does," a blond teen somehow barged into the conversation. Messy blond tresses ruled the boy's head and gentle, bright blue eyes peered from the bush that is called hair. He is wearing a blue long-sleeve shirt and pajama pants in an effort to imitate Church, but failing miserably in the hair department. "Church has not called me a constant source of disappointment for the past years now. Ah, the good ol' days."

"You are a constant source of disappointment, Caboose. Back then and now," Tucker insulted the navy blue clad boy rather fondly, just like he always did.

"Yeah… I know," Caboose replied happily. His tone made both Church and Tucker sigh.

"We are really bad at babysitting. I'm surprised Caboose hasn't learned how to curse yet," Church said, earning a nod of agreement from Tucker.

An explosion was heard in the distance, along with the sound of a plane engine taking off. Soon enough, a plane flew by the window as Church, Caboose and Tucker stared at it.

"…So you wanna chase after that plane or something? We got nothing better to do," Tucker asked, pulling out what appears to be the handle of some sort of alien weapon.

"Nah, I don't think I wanna be by Tex when she's on her period. I can still feel my kneecaps hurt from that day," Church dismissed the commotion as something his apparently violent girlfriend is up to.

"Yeah. Bitchpants McCrabby does have that habit during those times, doesn't she?"

Church ignored the insult towards his girlfriend, "Anyways, you guys all packed up? Caboose? You have all the clothes and diapers you'll be wearing for the next three years at Beacon? We're not coming back here starting tomorrow."

"Yes! I even brushed my teeth and wore a new set of underwear as you yelled at me to this morning. And… I have Freckles, Church!" Caboose responded and pulled out an assault rifle at Church, and immediately, the sound of party horns and confetti shot out of the barrel. "…Tucker did it."

"So glad we let Freckles do the shooting now," Church sarcastically remarked. "Remind me to thank Tex for installing the A.I. that orange-haired dude pawned off to us into that gun, Freckles. Really saved us the number of trips of going to the hospital."

「 _Affirmative_.」 the gun affirmed in a crackled voice.

"Welp, guys? You all ready?" he proceeded to scan the room. "Man. We are not gonna see this place for a while. Brings back good times, doesn't it?"

Tucker looked around the downtrodden apartment as well, "I feel like we're supposed to have some kind of, sentimental road down memory lane, but really, I'm not feeling it."

"…Huh. You're right, why are we even having this kind of moment? We haven't even been here for a week. Yeah, let's just go to sleep and leave first thing tomorrow."

"This is going to be the best field trip ever," Caboose chirped as the three prepared to go to sleep.

* * *

"…Yeah, I bet they don't even have our problem," Grif answered for Simmons.

Simmons's scroll began to ring, which said person scrambled to pick up. "Sir! I was starting to get worried!"

"Simmons! Where the hell are you and Grif?! I've specifically told you to find me at 0000! It is 2355 now, and you are nowhere to be seen!"

"Sir, you told us to wait for you to call us when you are-"

"Nonsense, Simmons! Now quit your yammering and meet me up at the airship dock! Double time! I got us some rooms to sleep in and news to deliver!"

"But! I!" Simmons stammered, but eventually slumped. "…Yes, sir."

"Good man!" the scroll immediately ended call. He stared at the scroll's screen and sighed tiredly. It's not even midnight yet, and he wonders why he even bothers putting up with his own group. Oh, right. He doesn't have any other place to go.

"…So what did our most revered leader of the now-disavowed Red Team want?" Grif approached Simmons, having heard his sergeant's gruff voice from two floors below.

"We're gonna meet up at the air dock. Sarge's order."

"Whaaaat? That means we have to walk! Do you even know how far that is?"

"Grif, just shut up and get to the dock. Either that, or actually begin to act like a Huntsman. We're gonna need it when we attend Beacon tomorrow," Simmons grumbled and jumped off the building, making his way towards the nearest dock.

"Oh… right. Forgot about the whole Huntsmen thing. Man, it's been ages," Grif muttered and followed after his partner, but not before picking up the case of drinks Simmons left behind. He worked hard for those.

What a night to start remembering training for becoming Huntsmen.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay… so this is a tad bit weird. This story is actually something I did not plan at all, and I probably never will plan long term for it. But hey, I started it. I'm gonna see it through till the end. As you may have guessed it already, this is a complete AU where RvB and RWBY are essentially mixed together, and I have to somehow make it a good story for everyone to read. Unfortunately, I hate planning, just like I do with all my other stories.  
**

 **So in the wise word of Lavernius Tucker, "Eh, we'll wing it."**

 **So here it is, a RvB x RWBY crossover. Review! Wonder what news Sarge bear and the events that will unfold tomorrow! And review again!**

 **-DarkAkatsuk1, starting a new story**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Red vs. Blue, nor do I own RWBY.

* * *

Chapter 2

* * *

"Aww, yeah. Beacon Academy," a teen smiled widely at the fine work of art of an academy as he departed from the train. Over his shoulder, he held a silver suitcase bigger than his torso, presumably his weapon of choice, and to complete that image, he is wearing a flamboyantly pink trench coat over a white dress shirt and black vest and tie, along with nondescript jeans and loafers. Medium-length blond tresses flowed down and graced his features, drawing admiring and jealous looks from both boys and girls alike.

It helps that he has such androgynous features that he can easily pass as a girl if he so wished to. Throw in the indecipherable signs of his heterosexuality, and no one can tell if he's really a boy or a girl.

"I've been tossing and training all my life just for this moment. My body is ready."

"Ooh! OOH! Look, sis!" His attention got drawn away to an excitable, and adorable, red and black short-haired girl. Her clothes are simply fabulous. Red and black are great colors that go well each other, and she follows that flow with the black clothes accented with red, and a red cape that is fluttering in a nonexistent wind. Her skin is a flawless pale white and the eyes are an interesting silver. Overall, she can still make some improvements, like say- "That kid has a collapsible staff! Oh, and over there! She has a fire sword! How does it work? I need to know the exact mechanism that make the fire come out- ow, ow, Ooww!"

…Maybe he'll tell her himself.

And the blonde… the… the…

"What are you doing?" he half-screeched with displeasure, surprising the two girls. "What, what! What, are you doing?!"

Simply outrageous! The galls of this blonde right here! What is this, the 21st century?! Who wears those kinds of clothes nowadays?! If she had worn a cowgirl hat to go with her attire at the moment, then fine, he wouldn't have cared, maybe even compliment her. But this? Sorry, but this honorary fashion police will not have any of this!

"Um, pulling my sister's hood?" the blonde answered with a question with confusion.

"No no no! I mean, what on earth are you wearing?!" he made his outrage clearer by pointing an accusatory finger at her clothes. "Brown leather? Orange scarf? Yellow corset?! And the shoulder paddings!? Girl, you are offending the color spectrum with those clothes! Now, you're getting out of them or getting a cowgirl hat this instant, or my name is not Franklin D. Donut!"

In a normal circumstance, dissing a girl who has gauntlets that double as dual shotguns about her fashion sense spells the recipe for disaster. Dissing a girl who is wearing Dual Range Shotgun Gauntlets who has a very fiery temper to boot spells a calamity. As in, on the color-spectrum-destroying level.

Unfortunately, this is not a normal circumstance.

"Are you trying to start something here, pinky girl?" The bracelets on her wrists shifted into gauntlets, signifying that Donut should quickly explain himself lest he faces 'shotgun to the face'. He did not get that exact memo.

"Ohoho, I'm starting something, alright," he prepared his suitcase, ignoring the way the other girl's attention zoned onto his large attaché case. "Just because your hair is so well-kept doesn't excuse your poor fashion sense! The moment the Headmaster finishes his opening speech, we need to have a serious discussion about your choice of clothes!" Donut huffed and addressed one final thing in an indignant tone, "And for your information, hun, it's _lightish-red_ and I'm a guy."

The blonde had looked increasingly angry, and then suddenly it changed as though she was reevaluating her first impression. She squinted at him as though confirming that he is indeed male.

"Oh my God."

Then that expression changed into excitement.

"Oh, my, God! You're that sassy gay friend type of person that I saw on TV, and always dreamed of having!" she proclaimed giddily, and held his hands with a giggle. Donut took that as an affirmative to his previous statement and nodded cheerily. "I'm Yang, and- hey, Ruby! Come over here and introduce yourself, will you?"

"E-eh?! But his suitcase! I was looking at his suitcase!" the little girl protested weakly, 'weakly' because she was being pulled from her hood by Yang again. "U-um, hi there. I'm Ruby."

"You look absolutely splendid in that dress," Donut complimented her. She flushed slightly at his statement. "Maybe if you wore heels, it can improve the overall aesthetic. Combat boots are nice and all, but it doesn't exactly compliment the overall theme your clothes have. Ooh, ooh! There's a shop in Vale that has the exact heels I think will go just fine!"

Ruby managed to suppress a horrified expression. The thought of even wearing those lady stilts is tantamount to being deprived of any sugar-laced snacks and drinks. Worse part is, Yang looked like she agreed with his thoughts.

"So you wanna hang out with us? We always have room for one more," Yang offered cheerily, who suddenly has a group of friends behind her. "We seriously need to know more about each other! Like say, what kind of name is 'Donut'?" she snickered at the last part.

"Huh?! Wait sis-"

"Sure! We can try on new clothes, and paint our nails, and talk about cute boys and girls in frills and Chantilly laces!" Donut accepted the offer and sped off with Yang and her clique, leaving Ruby behind to the dust. "Wait, but what about your sister?"

"Eh, she'll be fine. She really needs to learn how to make friends on her own," Yang dismissed his concern for the red-themed girl. "But back onto the subject about clothes. If orange, yellow, and brown aren't good on me, then pink isn't a good color on you, bub."

"It's not pink! It's _lightish-red!_ "

He didn't even bother denying the 'sassy gay friend' part at the beginning.

* * *

(meanwhile)

"Grif! Simmons! Front and center on the double!" A burly voice yelled out in a commanding tone, causing Simmons to surge fully awake. Grif, on the other hand, simply flinched before attempting to go back to sleep. 'Attempting', because Simmons kicked his languid ass out of the bed.

"Urgh, I thought he wouldn't call us if I just went back to sleep," Grif groaned in drowsy pain.

"Yeah, well. Nice plan, jackass. He's calling us anyways," Simmons said.

"Hustle up, idiots!"

The two quickly dressed themselves into the clothes they were wearing yesterday and gathered onto Beacon's campus, where the voice originated. Once there, Simmons stood straight and attentively, while Grif slouched and picked at his ears, which he then blew in the general direction of his C.O.

He is a burly man well into his middle age with a fair complexion, with gray hair in a military cut and eyes that seem to always squint and a body so ripped that it could compete in a Mr. Universe competition, whatever that is. Slung onto his back is a shotgun, or more accurately, an M90 CAWS, along with a bandolier composed of Soellkraft 8-Gauge Shells over a tight red t-shirt, camo pants, and combat boots.

"What is it, Sarge?" Simmons was the first to ask.

Sarge began to march back and forth in front of his men, a tick mark growing on his forehead with each passing second, "Men, it has come to my attention that there is some sort of dissension among our group. We need to discuss this issue before anything else can proceed as planned. As you may know, last night, there has been some kind of 'miscommunication' that was supposed to be addressed!"

Grif groaned, "There is no 'dissension', Sarge. When we arrived last night, you were already dead asleep on your ass in our quarters. We stayed awake for like, two minutes before we decided 'fuck it' and went to sleep."

"Damn it, Grif!" the oldest man cursed and marched threateningly up to the lazyass, who didn't even flinch at the violent approach, "That attitude is exactly what is ruining the impression I can have on the upcoming students of Beacon! We need to think of our group as a whole!"

"Yeah. That's why Ironwood and Ozpin let you teach here. So you can bore us all to death," Grif retorted sarcastically, making his sergeant grunt in thought.

"Simmons, I want you to slit Grif's throat when he goes to sleep," he ordered his trusted underling instead.

"Consider it done, sir!" Simmons immediately replied, causing Grif to stare at him blankly.

"You are such a kissass, did you know that, Simmons?"

"Well, at least I'm not the one with a slit throat tonight, cockbite."

"Now listen up, ladies! Today is the first day. I want you two to behave! We all have to establish our credibility as the glorious Red Army! Not like those pesky, dirty Blues..." he spoke the last three words with utter disdain. A far cry from how he addressed them ages ago. "Oh, and show Lopez the way around this place, will ya?"

A figure stepped into view from behind Grif and Simmons. Unlike the others, Lopez is clad in full metallic-brown body armor, from head to toe without any skin being revealed. From the rigidity of his posture, one would think that he is a robot at first glance. That is because he's actually not human, but an Atlesian Knight. Model number to be determined, as it is actually a prototype of an upcoming series.

"Hey, Sarge. When did you bring Lopez? Actually, when did he even get here? I didn't see him anywhere with us when we were escaping Atlas from the police and huntsmen," Grif asked curiously.

[Tú me dejaste atrás en Atlas, idiota. **/** _You left me behind in Atlas, idiot._ ] Lopez intoned in a robotic voice.

"Damn right you are, Lopez! Grif is one fat, ugly excuse of a soldier!" Sarge completely mistranslated the armor-clad being.

[Dios mío, te odio demasiado. **/** _My God, I hate you so much_.] Lopez expressed his utter, severe dislike for the sergeant, unable to use another tone besides a robotic one, and walked off ahead.

Sarge chuckled in good humor, despite not understanding what his robot just said, "Good one, amigo."

"You would think that we manage to get our hand on a speech unit that's Remnantian, but noooo, we just had to use one that fell from the fuckin' sky! What language is he speaking, for God's sake?!" Grif all but screamed out towards the sky.

Simmons sighed and took a glance around the campus they had stood around for the past few minutes. All the passengers on the plane were leaving to where the opening speech would be occurring. He caught some people staring at them, but otherwise, it was rescinded once he made eye contact with them.

Then something caught his attention.

"Hey, are those the Blues?"

* * *

(minutes earlier)

"Beacon Academy…" Church intoned as he studied the school from Main Avenue. Now out of his comfort clothes, he has changed out of his pajama pants into faded black jeans, with a worn-out leather jacket over his tank top. "How riveting, how majest- oh, who am I kidding with words, this place looks awesome!"

"Beacon! Academy!" Caboose screamed out in utter joy, besides a groaning Tucker who was massaging his head. "This! Is the best day! Ever! Of all times!"

"Whoa-ho-ho, calm down there, Caboose. This is just the front. You'll see more tomorrow, I'm sure," Church calmed down the boisterous blond much like one would with a child. "Well, that was the smoothest ride I've rode for a while now."

"Easy for you to say. I had to put up with Caboose saying 'Are we there yet? Are we there yet?' over and over while you were dead asleep on your ass the moment we got onboard!" Tucker groused, his fingers twitching towards the alien handle, hoping that he can shank Caboose for just one second and get away with it.

"Are we there-?"

"YES! CABOOSE! We are here!"

"YEEEES~!" the childish blond cried in jubilation, earning various stares from the arriving, upcoming students of Beacon Academy. Some were annoyed (having sat and stand beside him the _whole_ ride), others were indifferent, but most were amused.

"*sigh* The last thing we need is another Caboose. What I would give to not have that happen," Church muttered. Nearby, an orange-haired girl sneezed, stopping her rant midway about how awesome Beacon Academy is and causing her to look hyperactively around for the cause. The Eastern-clothed boy besides her sighed at her antic. "…And I got the distinct feeling that I just jinxed myself. Fuck."

"Eh, you jinx yourself every other day, so I'm prepared for what's coming our way," Tucker shrugged and fixed his clothes. "So this is Beacon, huh? At least it looks better than our box canyon back in Gulch. Plus, look at all the chicks! All of them are a 9 out of 10 or higher!"

"Ah, Tucker. It's always gonna be the chicks, huh?"

"Hey, you have Tex! Go fawn over your girlfriend!"

"Haha, at least I have a girlfriend, Tucker. You, however, don't," Church retorted easily.

"Yeah, but that's only because I want to get L-A-I-D, not be in a relationship," Tucker shot back.

"Relationship… the ship that all players fear," Caboose remarked on the side.

"Shut up, Caboose," Church said dryly, "and are you seriously forgetting about Junior?"

"Hey, Junior is a total exception! How was I supposed to know that some alien thing infected me with a parasitic embryo?!" Tucker groaned at the memory he brought upon himself. "Plus, it's been a couple months and we are a thing. He is _awesome_."

"Right. And Caboose here is secretly a Faunus," Church sarcastically remarked, in which a nearby black-haired girl with a ridiculously big bow on her head turned to listen to what the two were talking about. "His dog ears are just so deep in that jungle he calls hair that we can't tell at first glance. Come to think about it, he always seems happy whenever we call for him. You think he's actually one?"

"Dude, I am not gonna groom him, if that's what you're saying. I already agreed to changing his diapers every Wednesday and weekends, but nothing else."

"Damn it," Church cursed, his secret plan foiled. Still, it is a valid point that he'll have to confirm later tonight.

"Oh, hey look Church. It's the Reds!" the black teen spoke up, pointing at aforementioned Reds. "Man, it's been ages since we've seen them. When was it, back in Atlas?"

"Hey, dipshits! How you doing!" Church called out.

"Whu- hey! What do you want, you dirty Blues?!" True enough, it's Sarge who replied.

"Good to see you too, Sarge!" Church greeted the man cheerily, making him grunt in restrained annoyance. His teal-shirted friend walked over to one of the Reds.

"S'up, Grif?"

"Hey, Tucker," Grif greeted him cordially. "How've you been?"

"Eh, it's been alright. Still searching for those holes in my life to fill, _bow-chicka-bow-wow_ ," he quickly whispered the last part, "And you, Simmons?"

"Let's just say that Sarge is still a hardass and I feel that we'll have to attack each other soon," Simmons shrugged and turned to look at Church and Sarge glaring at each other.

"Come on, be a pal, Sarge! It's been ages! Why, I don't think we've seen each other since you left us for dead to the fuckin' po-po!" Church continued his cheerful charade, which served to piss Sarge more. A plus in Grif's book any time, any day.

"You expect us to rescue you after you destroyed an entire shipment of Dust from the SDC by accident, and give the finger to a platoon of Atlesian soldiers and trained huntsmen and huntresses?!"

"That was the best light show ever," Caboose threw in his two cents.

"Hey, you guys almost killed that head boss dude from that Dust corporation. Don't think we didn't fuck things up alone!" Church threw away his façade and displayed anger. "Tex had the hand in most of it! And let's not forget what Grif almost did!"

"Meh. It was cool while it lasted," Said person did not give a fuck. He had met the quota for the day.

"Well, I think there's only one way to settle this then," Sarge took out his shotgun.

「 _Threat level increased. Deadly forces authorized_.」the gun on Caboose's back intoned, causing him to draw it out, too.

"Reds and Blues will never coexist. We'll never get together and be…" the former sergeant's voice cracked with emotions, "A little… _purple_."

"My God, yes we can! I thought we already talked about this!" Church groaned angrily. "Seriously, why the fuck are we even arguing?! We all make mistakes, and ours was just one that was a big fuckup!"

"No. Not ours. _Yours_ ," Sarge raised the shotgun at Church's face, who had already pulled out his sniper rifle and pointed back.

"Tucker. Get over here. I need your help."

"Dude, what do you want me to do? I'm a lover, not a quarreler!"

"Just get over here!"

"Fine!" Tucker pulled out the handle and prepared for the worst.

The two teams faced each other, weapons out and directed towards each other in a standoff. Arriving students stopped and watched, curious as to what was happening and expecting a great show from this impromptu incident. Beacon Academy is, by all means, a combat school, which basically teaches its students how to fight, which is to its core violent. And while violence is not always the solution, it is still, and always will be, _an_ answer. Which is what the two teams are resorting to right now.

In the distance, a certain red-themed girl was sniffling from the amount of Dust being thrown around her face.

"Now what do you have to say for yourself?!" a white-haired girl yelled at her, who looked like she is about to sneeze. Which she did, and that triggered a massive explosion. And Sarge misinterpreted that explosion.

"They have explosives! ATTAAAAAACK!" Sarge and the 'Red Team' charged head on towards the 'Blue Team', and understandably, they panicked.

* * *

(meanwhile)

"Ah… such a peaceful day," a teen sighed out contentedly. Dressed in a purple dress shirt with a doctor's lab coat over it, he stared outside the window in tranquil calm from the hospital building stationed in Beacon Academy. His brown hair is styled into a crop cut, and a stethoscope hung around his neck to make him look like a legitimate doctor.

"You know, some would think that such signs really mean that we'll soon have 'visitors', Doc," his mentor chirped as she entered the room. She wore the same attire as him, sans the dress shirt and replaced with a modest purple blouse. She also wore glasses with purple trims, and her hair is tied into a loose ponytail.

"True, but I would just love to have a moment to myself, Dr. Grey," Doc murmured.

"Just call me Emily, will you? I didn't accept your request for an internship just so you would be all formal, you know?" she requested for the umpteenth time. "All the time, colleagues and students calling me Doctor, Dr. Grey, Miss Grey, it gets boring after a while."

He pondered that for a moment. "Nah, I think I'll keep calling you Dr. Grey. It really suits you," Doc smiled honestly, which made his mentor huff in displeasure and possibly attraction.

"Keep saying that, Doc. I'll make you call me by my name someday," Dr. Grey replied in an airy tone and returned to her paperwork.

Speaking of which, why does she keep calling him Doc? The professors, the students, even the occasional guests that come by, all of them call him Doc instead of his name, Frank DuFresne. He doesn't even have a PhD! Is his name really that hard to remember? It's only a total of three syllables, for Pete's sake!

He lets out a sigh. Welp, it's not like this day can get any worse. Today is good, and will be a peaceful day-

 ***BOOM!***

…Aaaaand it's gone.

Why did he even bother saying those forbidden words?

"Well! That's certainly something that'll keep us occupied," Dr. Grey remarked cheerily at her desk, happy that there will be patients so soon.

"Haaah… I'll go get the aloe vera," he looked at his mentor, who had an expectant look. "And the thermometer, bandages, and syringes. And the surgical tools. Especially the drill and chainsaws."

"Happy to know you're learning so well, Doc!"

* * *

(hours later)

In a dark room with only a single source of light shining dimly in the middle, a table is set to be directly under the light. Along that table, five figures and one robot sat by it, each with a neutrally grim expression. Finally, one of them broke the silence with a stressed groan.

"So remind me, Simmons. Why are we here again?" Grif asked.

"It's because Sarge saw those idiots over there and lost his shit," Simmons gestured towards the group on the opposite side of the table, "and we got dragged in because of it."

"Hey, we didn't ask him to go nuts, alright, assholes?" Church grunted angrily. "It's because he's so fucking institutionalized he can't even tell the difference between the real enemies and a couple of guys in blue. Hell, even some of the arriving students got shot at by him!"

"It was going so well, too. Man, I hate Beacon already," Tucker lamented. "It's one thing to cause trouble on the first day of school. I don't know if turning the courtyard into a battlefield counts as one."

"I still haven't gotten my cookies, yet," Caboose chirped in a rather upbeat voice. Church and Tucker groaned in sync.

"Silence," a sharp voice interrupted the bickering, causing them to immediately shut up. From the only door in the room, a woman strode in with a riding crop in hand. With blonde hair tied into a bun with a curl hanging down a side of her face and bright green eyes glaring through thin ovular glasses, she strikes as a stern authority figure who would not tolerate to put down any forms of mischief.

"So. What do you have to say about yourselves?" the woman questioned the six. "Destroying campus properties, engaging in active and reckless behavior, wounding six out of ten first-year students, and turning Main Avenue into a warzone, all of these only minutes after arriving? You are lucky that no one died, but I refuse to accept anyone into this school who do not care for their fellow students' well-being."

"It was totally Sarge's fault! That madman has nothing to do with us!" Grif immediately defended himself.

"You take that back! Sarge is a great man! He's just a little misguided!" Simmons defended his commanding officer without hesitation, in which Grif made a remark about him 'being a kissass until the end'.

"They fired at us, so we fired back! It's called the laws of physics. You ever heard of it, stupid bitch?" Church replied rudely and hotheadedly, clearly unafraid of the consequences of cursing like a sailor to a clearly experienced Huntress. It helps that he has a girlfriend that knows how to kick his ass to last Tuesday without even paying attention to him.

"Um, I need to go to the bathroom," Caboose not-answered and whispered, _"Number two."_

The librarian-esque woman finally turned her attention to Tucker, who shrugged. "Eh, I needed to let off some steam, so I pulled out my sword to swish swoosh stab. I can pull it out for you to admire. Bow chicka bow wow!"

[Yo estaba explorando fuera del campus. ¿Qué carajo me he perdido? **/** _I was off exploring the campus. What the fuck did I miss?_ ] the only robot sitting at the table spoke up.

It had not even been a full minute into this interrogation-esque scene, and Glynda Goodwitch already felt a very strong urge to slap her forehead in utter frustration.

* * *

 **A/N: Google Translate all the way for Lopez.**

 **-DarkAkatsuk1**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Red vs. Blue, nor do I own RWBY.

* * *

Chapter 3

* * *

(nighttime)

It is nighttime, and every new arrival are currently preparing for bed. The auditorium is a rather large room, certainly big enough to fit in a decent amount of houses,

However, due to recent events, there have been rumors that initiation may not begin until the end of the week, and it has been confirmed that it would definitely not be tomorrow. Thus, the reason why there aren't as much sleeping students and why the large room is not so quiet.

And among them, there is one… maybe two students who have a sneaking suspicion on who are responsible for the delay.

A red-haired girl scanned the crowd of students sitting around and talking about the latest gossip and, most recently, the temporary delay of initiation. Wearing a simple black t-shirt and pajama pants over an athletic figure, she would look just like your everyday city girl if not for the sharp glare in her forest green eyes. Normally, there would be a certain person with her to take out her frustration on, but for whatever reason, he isn't there right now. It doesn't help that said person is also the source of her frustration.

She was starting to get worried, though she'll never admit it out loud to anyone. Any amount of time that went past 20 minutes always meant that her idiots are getting themselves into trouble, and most of the times, they somehow involve the Reds. Then again, she can always rely on Church to keep himself and the rest of her idiots out of trouble.

She paused in her thoughts as she rewinded back to what she just said in her mind.

' _Oh god, I'm putting faith in Church. That sounds wrong on so many levels,_ ' she groused mentally. "In either case, if they weren't the ones responsible, then I hope the idiots made it here safely. And that they haven't gotten themselves into trouble."

…

(meanwhile)

Glynda retreated from the light once she saw that she was no longer the center of attention. These… children… are even more immature than the girl Ruby Rose, but while the young girl redeemed that immaturity with her admirable drive to protect the world from the forces of Grimm, she cannot say the same for these boys. Rambunctious, disrespectful, apathetic, vulgar, shameless, coarse, violent, she can continue listing all the traits that each of them displayed that she can use to expel them this instant.

That power, however, does not lie with her, but in the Headmaster, who is currently standing right next to her, watching the scene unfold while sipping from that coffee mug he never seems to be seen without. He has the appearance of a middle-aged gentleman dressed in a black suit, a black vest, a green undershirt, and a dark-green scarf with unruly gray hair and shaded, crooked glasses. In his hand is a mug of coffee raised to his lips and a cane hanging onto his other arm.

He's probably hiding an amused smirk behind that coffee mug, too, that jerk.

"Ozpin, why do you insist on accepting these misfits into Beacon? I can accept your excuse for Miss Rose… _'for some reasons more than others'_ … but they will need more than just the excuse of 'wasted potential'," Glynda expressed her disappointment and disapproval of the boys who were currently bickering at one another.

"Because they deserve a chance," he replied, his eyes never leaving the boys.

"That same chance has also culminated in the near devastation of Main Avenue," Glynda reminded him, "and the hospitalization of several arriving students. While it is a miracle that none of them were severely harmed, this has potentially pushed the schedule back by a week. Ozpin, I'm sorry if I still don't understand why you are keen on keeping them here."

"I'm sure you'll see the reason why I've chosen them to attend here soon, Glynda," Ozpin smiled mysteriously at his colleague, and then walked towards the bickering group. "Boys," he spoke up, "I believe it's time to tell you why you're here. If you recall correctly, each of you have –"

"Oh crap, it's him," Simmons whispered.

The headmaster raised a brow.

"It's Wash. Why does he have Wash's voice?"

"That settles it. He has to be the feds. The only people who could possibly have Wash's voice are the police. We are being interrogated right now," Church groaned.

Ozpin remained calm, "I assure you, I'm not the po-"

"Eat shit and die!" Grif shouted belligerently.

The silver-haired man had to raise a hand to stop Glynda from administering disciplinary action for the outrageous outburst. "That was very unnecessar–"

"Bite me, banana man! I want my phone call! This is illegal, damnit!"

He was beginning to wonder if the orange-themed boy was even listening to him and turned his attention to the one who appeared the least hostile. "Mr. Caboose. You seem to be of sound mind. Would you mind telling your friends that I'm not here to cause you any more trouble?"

[¿En serio? ¿Está pidiendo el idiota del grupo? **/** _Are you serious? You're asking the idiot of the group?_ ] the only full robot in the room asked, then snarked, [Usted también puede hablar con una pared y obtener una mejor respuesta que hablar con este idiota. **/** _You may as well talk to a wall and get a better response than talk to this idiot._ ]

Caboose stared dumbly at the headmaster with an equally dumb smile on his lips, "Okay!" The blond turned to his compatriots and spoke slowly, "Church, Tucker, Grif, Simmons, Lopez. The nice old man is trying to tell us that he is not arresting us. He is going to execute us."

The Blues immediately understood that Caboose's mental facilities had just farted out explosive diarrhea that somehow clogged the shit out of the toilet it was going into, no pun intended, which was then regurgitated into an entirely new dimension before getting flushed again and shooting out back from the original toilet and into said facilities, and thus they understood the intention behind the words rather than the words themselves. The Reds however, or more specifically Grif, were not so quick on the uptake.

"I want my phone call damnit! I have rights! Oh, I am gonna sue the ever living fuck out of you if that's the last thing I do!"

"Grif, shut up," Simmons groaned, fixing his glasses back into a comfortable position. "You're making us look like idiots."

"What Simmons said, Grif! Shut up!" Sarge came into the room, not looking worse for wear.

"You are late, _Professor_ ," Glynda groused out. "What is your excuse that you got your own student assistants into trouble? Not only did you stop them, you joined them in their carnage." Grif mouthed ' _student assistants_ ' with distaste, but no one saw him.

"Right. I was cleaning the blood off my shotgun. Many was spilled in the battle only hours ago."

The orange-themed teen immediately called bullshit, "Most of it mine! You shot me 8 times, and rammed the butt of your blasted gun in my face at least 11 more times!"

"And a damn shame it was, dirtbag! I could have sworn you would be dead after the first headshot!"

Grif threw his arms up and leaned back in his chair. Church decided to speak his piece, "Now that the peanut gallery is done with that shit, do you mind telling us why we're here, old man?"

Ozpin leaned forward, pleased that one of them decided to focus on the issue at hand, "Do you know who I am, Mr. Church?"

Each one of the ones in question looked at each other, before Church asked the question they're all asking in their heads, "Who are you?"

Ozpin and Glynda, the latter more than the former, appeared surprised at the lack of familiarity, in which Tucker replied aridly to save him and the others the trouble,

"Apparently, paying attention to lame history lessons is not one of our super powers."

"Lame hist-?!" Professor Goodwitch almost squawked before she reigned herself in. "This is common knowledge, Mr. Tucker."

"Oh, sure. Everyone knows him but us," Church snarked, "In other news, the sun is on fire!"

"The ocean is flooding!" Simmons chipped in.

"Remnant is a sphere!" Tucker threw in his two cents.

"The Council placed chips in our brain!" Grif gasped loudly.

Caboose lets out a huge, horrific gasp. "They put dihydrogen monoxide in our water!" A very dark expression settled on the special, usually happy-go-lucky blond as his fists balled up. " _They must be punished._ "

"Caboose, that's a myth. Dihydrogen monoxide doesn't even exist!" Church corrected him.

"Oh," The dark mood disappeared as though it had never been there, "Then what about the fluoride?"

Grif replied, "You wanna know why people listens to pop music?"

"Enough," Glynda interrupted, cracking her riding crop on the table and effectively silencing the conversation that had emerged. "Professor Ozpin, will you please get to the point? I'm afraid talking to them in a roundabout way won't help them the least bit."

"At least someone here likes to take it fast. Bow-chicka-bow-wow!" Tucker quipped, and immediately a riding crop found itself slapping on the back of his hands, causing him to recoil and hiss in pain. Too bad it did nothing to wipe away the shit-eating grin on his face, "…That was so worth it!"

"Hm. Professor Goodwitch's sex life aside," Ozpin chose to interrupt, earning an icy, stern glare from said professor, "I believe it's time we discuss what happened."

"Fine, I'm starting to get annoyed with being in this room and I wanna go to sleep, so I'm just gonna lay it all out for you. Most of us here are from Gulch, we chose to desert from its army, you found out about us earlier than expected because that fucking excuse of a colonel over there-" he thrusted a finger at the newly-inducted professor, who scoffed at the lame insult, "-decided to have a conflict with us, and now we're here, talking about feds, who the hell you are, a hell of a lot of sarcasm, the wannabe BDSM secretary's sex life, and who-knows-what-else! DOES THAT EXPLAIN EVERYTHING?!"

Everyone in the room was silent at the outburst, the faculty members more than the detained, as Church tried to regain his bearings through deep, harsh breaths.

"…See, when Church yells like that, it means he's really angry," Caboose decided to chirp in.

"Thank. You. Caboose. He knows," the coat-clad teen managed to grouse out through clenched teeth.

Ozpin stared at Church with studious eyes, then at every other male and one robot in the room. Glynda chose to glare with strong disapproval at all of them. Each of them gulped sans Lopez.

Surprisingly, Sarge chose to speak up, "I think I know the best compromise for everything that has happened."

"Oh? Then let's hear it, Professor Sarge. I believe we have wasted enough of the boys' time here. Boys, you may leave if you wish."

…

Tex gave that thought much more time than she was accustomed to, and took it back with a sarcastic bark,

"Nah, who am I kidding? They're probably in trouble already." She scanned the crowd of students that were talking amongst each other and thought out loud, "Now, who can I bother until the idiots come here?"

"Um, apologies," a voice stopped her thoughts and the red-haired girl turned her attention to... another red-haired girl. In a short red nightwear, her fellow redhead is taller than average, which is just about her own height as well, allowing a good portion of her legs to be displayed. If anything, they almost look alike. The only difference is that Tex's skin tone is paler, her eyes much narrower, and her hair much shorter. "But are you alright?"

 _'Pyrrha Nikos,'_ she immediately recognized. _'She's more humble than she makes herself out to be in the tournaments.'_ "No, nothing's wrong. Just looking for my idiots is all."

"But there seems to be more than that. Is there any problem? It's just that… well, everyone you're glaring at are becoming unsettled."

Tex stared at the girl a bit longer before a devious smirk sprouted on her lips. Yes, she'll do just fine.

* * *

(later)

"I can't believe we stayed in that room for five hours."

When Church, Grif, Tucker, Simmons, Caboose, and Lopez finally left the interrogation room, the sun had already set and the hall was eerily silent, save for the auditorium a distance away. Whatever Sarge was going to tell those two professors, it saved them their time, but it didn't bode well either.

"That's only because our resident egghead here kept setting the bars high up. I mean, who in the living fuck makes a negotiation that ends with them losing more than they gain?" Grif asked in exasperation.

…

 _(earlier)_

" _No, I am not going to wear that monkey suit they call 'uniforms'!" Grif stated stubbornly._

" _Yeah, cuz you're just gonna drip ice cream all over the damn thing like you did with the last one you had, fatass!" Simmons yelled back._

" _That's a burn," Sarge remarked._

 _[Pido disculpas por estos idiotas. Son muy molesto y difícil de trabajar con._ _ **/** _ I apologize for these dumbasses. They are very annoying and hard to work with.] _Lopez apologized to the blonde teacher, if not to placate her, then to score some brownie points for himself. Unfortunately for him, she understood what he said just as well as the group the robot came with. Not one bit._

 _The other two boys did nothing but close their eyes at the trouble that was happening next to them. The unkempt blond one was watching the scene with rapt attention that she was sure had nothing to do with listening to what was happening._

 _This is going to take a long time. A very long time._

 _Now if only Ozpin would stop sipping from the damn mug of his, this would go a lot faster._

…

"What the- the bars have to be set high! It was the only way we could stay in Beacon!" Simmons defended himself, "At least staying here would be better going back in Gulch while the heat is still high or- or picking cotton back in Vacuo!"

"Okay, racist!" Tucker shouted, sounding extremely offended. "Next, you're gonna tell us that that it'll be better than being Vacuoan!"

"Vacuoan is _not_ a race! It's a _class of citizenship_!"

"Whatever you say… racist."

Church gave a long sigh. "Simmons." Said person gave him his attention. "I love you as a guy-friend, alright? I want to make that clear first, so no one will misunderstand."

The glasses-clad teen stared confusedly. "Um, thank you?"

"But telling that scary blonde bitch that we'll definitely not get into trouble was probably the worst thing you've ever done for us. I mean, have you seen our track records?"

Indeed, Simmons had seen them. Multiple times, in fact. He had even seen a document of it when he had hacked into both Gulch's and the Atlesian military database, but nobody needed to know that just yet. "They can't be that bad."

"Ohoho, I think otherwise," Church scoffed at the weak reply, "Caboose here is the prime example of bad track records."

"Hello!" Said person chirped at the mention of his name.

"He's team-killed more of his previous team than all of us combined in the last eight years, both ingame and in real life. I don't even know if he's operating on an _earthly_ spectrum of stupid."

The group finally made it into the auditorium, where sleeping bags were strewn in a semi-orderly fashion, with some grouped together in little cliques and others in rows. "Aw, damnit! We missed dinner!" Grif shouted in disbelief, drawing the attention of a few before they returned to whatever they had been doing.

"It's been over for a good hour now," one of the student called him out, which made the group turn their eyes toward Simmons. The time that Simmons had spent trying to negotiate with the professors had also been a good hour.

"Gee, I wonder whose fault that was?" Tucker rolled his eyes while drawling sarcastically.

"Hindsight is 20/20," Simmons admitted tiredly.

"Unless it needs contacts. Then sometimes, it's 20/30," Caboose inserted randomly.

"I don't care about hindsight or contacts, I want my dinner!"

"Grif, I'll pay you 300 Lien if you can shut up about food for 30 days."

"I'll stick my foot up your ass for 30 days if you don't feed me!"

"Oh, hey~ guys~! What's this about asses?"

Simmons and Grif froze stiffly at that greeting. That damn cheerful voice laced with diabetes and other heart-stopping diseases was directed at the two of them. And they have the utmost confidence that they know who it belongs to.

"Simmons. Please tell me that was not Donut just now."

"That was Donut just now, Grif."

"Of course it's me, silly! I didn't know that you guys were going to Beacon!" Donut sounded genuinely surprised. And excited. With a lot of emphasis on the 'excited'. Which made Grif moan in a lot more pain than earlier.

"Oh hey, it's Donut! How's my favorite Red guy doing?" Church greeted.

"Fan-tast-ic!" the metrosexual blond waved his hand, "I got to see the interior designs of the academy, listened to a speech the Headmaster gave- by the way, he sounds really based. And what else? Oh yeah, I got myself a new girly-friend!"

"Aw, sweet! So what's the verdict: grapes, lemons, oranges, _melons_?" Tucker asked the question that mattered.

"Oh, she is just fine!" Donut replied cheerily, "Yang Xiao Long's her name. She has the nicest shade of lilac eyes I've ever seen, and her hair is just fabulous. Her wardrobe could make do with a major do-over though. Oh, there are those moments where she pulls her hair over her shoulders to comb it with her hands-"

"Bitchin'! How's the rack?!"

Before Donut could reply, the effeminate boy caught Grif and Simmons trying to sneak off and went to grab them. They cried in terror, trying to get out of his grip. "Don't be like that, guys. I even went out of my way to get your stuffs, too! It'll be just like old days, when we were all alone in that box canyon, like strapping young men lost in the wilderness. Only this time, we don't have any tents to initiate our own little Brokeback-"

"I'm beginning to remember why I hate you so much!" Grif yelled.

"Uh, yeah. So… I guess we'll leave you guys to your… uhm… reunion," Church stared at the two in silence, then left promptly with a, "…'kay, bye."

"Don't you leave us, traitor!" Simmons shook a fist at him.

"Hi, Mister Muffin Man! Bye, Colonel Biscuits!" Caboose followed after Church.

"Later, guys. Donut. Don't torture these guys with your striking fabulousness, will ya?" Tucker waved and left as quickly as his crew did.

"As long as you keep up that metrosexual vibe you got goin' for you!" Donut waved back goodbye and turned back to his buddies, "We, have so much to talk about! Like, with the upcoming initiation, the ceremony after that, then first day of classes, arranging the schedule- ooh, and my personal favorite: Decorating the room we get into! Let's write up an itinerary and give it to Sarge tomorrow!" Donut exclaimed, making Grif groan again and Simmons to tuck his glasses back up as the flamboyant teen dragged the two and search for an area for the three of them to sleep.

And so the two soon realized what hell is like… and they were sure as hell, no pun intended, that one single large sleeping bag could not have that many frills and doilies. That they were forced into.

* * *

"Was it a wise decision to let them off without punishment, Ozpin?" Glynda finally asked the headmaster as he finished the last of his coffee back in his office.

"They will be punished soon, mark my words. It is merely postponed is all," Ozpin replied placidly. "Have I ever disappointed you in the end?"

"Yes. The results don't, but you still do," she immediately responded bluntly.

"You hurt me, Glynda," Ozpin chuckled humorously, picking up a silver thermos flask on his office desk to refill his mug.

"Speaking of which, what will we do about the mess back on Main Avenue?"

Ozpin poured himself another mug of coffee, "I had David take care of the mess."

…

The figure in a steel gray jumpsuit with yellow trims had just finished setting up the lights to illuminate the yard where the site of destruction is situated at. No distinct physical attributes can be made through the gray balaclava that covered all of his face and his eyes were obscured by a pair of mirrored orange-tinted glasses. Despite the entirety of his face being obscured, it is clear to everyone that he is not one to be messed with if the way he directs himself says anything.

"Yep," he remarked as he studied the utter chaos that was the result of the Reds and Blues duking it out. "This is their work, alright. Some of these rubbles aren't even part of Beacon's pavement."

He released a sigh he did not know he was holding.

"Why did they have to make such a big mess? It's not even the first day of school! Couldn't they keep themselves out of trouble for at least a week? Hell, even a day would be welcome!" he bemoaned. A moment of silence passed and he finally shrugged,

"Oh, who am I kidding? I miss those guys."

Rolling his arms, he proceeded to clean up the mess, as per his duty as the school janitor.

…

Glynda kept a stern gaze as she remembered the newly-instated janitor, who had entered the academy only months prior. Despite his application stating that he wished to be a student of Beacon, there were two problems that prevented him from doing so: he is much older than the students, perhaps a year or two older than most of the third-years, and his overall combat experience are far more than what any students should have.

David's physical exams indicate an extremely disciplined exercise routine, Aura notwithstanding, and his abilities and skills in battle are nothing to scoff at either, though it appears he favors the traditional method of fighting/hunting, using knives and firearms separately instead of the complex mecha-shifting contraptions that are so very popular among the young ones these days.

For all intents and purposes, he is already more than ready to become a full-fledged Huntsman. Still, she had one concern,

"I still don't think it was a wise decision to make him the janitor."

Ozpin cracked a grin, "Well, it did sound like a good idea when he first walked into this room. And he was very adamant in staying at Beacon rather than earning his license immediately," He hid a smirk as he rose the mug to his lips, "I should remind you that it is an action that you yourself approved of."

"I approved of him remaining to earn his education properly," Glynda corrected him succinctly, "Not him upholding his janitorial tasks."

"And yet, he's still here, cleaning the hallways that get trashed enormously one day, and squeaky clean the next day. I couldn't have asked for more."

The librarian-esque woman turned her head towards Ozpin, "We still need to discuss the scheduling of initiation, Ozpin. We'll need to go over the agenda as to what we will do, now that all the arriving students are accounted for."

"In due time, Glynda. In due time," the headmaster swiveled his chair to stare outside, right where David Washington is cleaning up the mess of a battlefield in record time, "It looks like it's turning out to be a very interesting year."

She shook her head, finally allowing herself a rare smile, "You say that every year, Ozpin."

"True. Doesn't stop me from saying it anyways."

* * *

 **A/N: I don't have an excuse for why I'm doing late updates. I don't even have an excuse as to why the humor in this chapter feels forced (in my opinion). I will tell you, however, that more of the cast of RWBY will be making their appearance next chapter.**

 **Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go back to my other stories. See ya then.**

 **-DarkAkatsuk1**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Red vs. Blue, nor do I own RWBY. I'm never using Google Drive again. Why? I hate retyping my work out. How the hell did the entirety of this chapter just disappear in the middle of fucking typing? I didn't even do anything out of the ordinary. Fucking bullshit. I'm starting to remember why I hate it and didn't want to use it now.

* * *

Chapter 4

* * *

"This cannot get any worse," Grif stated, slamming his locker close.

Last night had been rough for him and Simmons. Lopez had retired from the ballroom and searched for some other place to shut down in, given his status as a robot, which left the two Reds at the mercy of Donut. His talk of lavender chamomile body lotion and paisley thongs tortured them greatly on a mental (and masculine) level, and they only managed to get away when they said they were going to the restroom. Instead, they went and hid in the janitor's closet their robot had situated himself in.

It had been a rough sleep with backaches and neck cramps and coming out smelling like bleach and dirty water, but compared to having to endure a session of interior designing and decorating, it was completely worth it.

"Uh-huh," Simmons nodded distantly and continued pressing on the doohickey that is in his hands, having already finished changing into his everyday clothes.

"I mean, why is Donut here? He didn't even give a text or a call saying he's gonna go to Beacon Academy! I mean, Mistral has that daily wine and cheese hour that he's so fond of, and almost every skin care products he had talked all about! That should mean he would go to Haven Academy!"

"Mhmm," again, Simmons nodded dully.

"And don't get me started on the reality TV shows there! He absolutely loved those more than the other kingdoms! And let's not forget about all the latest scandals and celebrity news... Urgh! I don't care about Pyrrha Nikos and how she might actually be seeing some secret lover!" Grif yelled out his discontent.

"You got that right," the glasses-wearing Red affirmed without thought.

"That can only mean-" Grif paused in thought and came to a startling realization, "Sarge rang him in and told him to come here without telling us. That can only be it!"

Simmons sighed and looked away from the phone-like device, "So Donut came here because Sarge ordered him to come here. From Mistral, where the beauty products, reality TV shows, and latest celebrity news and scandals are top notch, to Vale, where the beauty products, reality TV shows, and latest celebrity news and scandals are top notch. Whoop-de-fucking-do."

"What I'm trying to say is, he could have given us a call," Grif scratched his head, "I would have been more prepared for the whole onslaught of Donutitis."

"Grif. You already know that would not happen. We're never prepared for Donut," Simmons stated with finality.

For all that it was worth, Grif admitted that Simmons had a point. Releasing an explosive sigh in resignation for the days to come, Grif slammed his back to his locker and stared at... whatever the hell Simmons was doing. "You've been on that thing since this morning. What is it anyways?"

To his credit, Grif actually managed to sound interested.

"This, my technologically subpar friend, is a prototype of the thing that would soon be called the Scroll," Simmons held out the slightly bulky device for Grif to see in its glory. In appearance, it looks just like your run-on-the-mill scroll, but the main difference is obviously its design. It was not paper thin, appearing to be as thick as an ordinary mousepad. "For now, I'll call it ProScroll. This little guy is rather particular, in that it's actually still in a developmental stage and hasn't been fully integrated into the CCTS. It's so heavily encrypted that it makes old Madonna music videos look like cute animal videos."

"You just called me dumb, didn't you?" Grif stared at the letters and numbers that were falling down on the screen in some kind of Matrix-like manner.

Simmons snorted, "Anyways, I've been trying to get his thing to do what I want it to do, but it needed reconfiguration on the algorithm it's following. It hadn't been easy, but I finally finished it."

"And that would be..."

"I just finished upgrading it to Windows 10."

"How typical."

"In whatever case, now I've gotta change the IP address, set up some decent firewalls, and figure out an alternating pattern to follow by before actually 'browsing' through the Valean interwebs. Encryption can only protect me so much, and I'm not sure how the headmaster will react when he sees me checking out the protection this school has on its system without asking for permission-"

"Uh-huh," this time, it was Grif's turn to nod dully. He had not understood 98% of what Simmons just said. Or even if whatever he said is even legit.

"-given that we're in a hunter school, which is typically really secure, it should be hard… oh wow," Simmons sighed forlornly, "It's _way_ too easy to bypass security! Ozpin seriously needs to step up his A-game! I can already spot nine ways to shut down the entire school system with one virus attack. If you're gonna run a school, at least know how to run its sys- oh, hey. Some response came. This might be a challenge... let's try this, then. Place this here, stop that one over there…" The smartest of the Reds began to mutter some kind of computer lingo Grif sure as hell didn't understand.

"Alright, fill me in. What are you doing, Simmons?"

"I'm hacking into the school database. Perhaps even the Valean Council and community database while I'm at it," Simmons stated casually, as if he had not just admitted to doing something that's pretty fucking illegal.

"..." Grif remained silent, then, "Wow. You work fast, Simmons."

Immediately, Simmons felt something was up. Clearing up the last of the response, he frowned at Grif, "Alright, what are you up to, Grif? You don't compliment unless it involves someone acting like a lazyass. Case in point, you."

"Oh, not much. Just that... you change my gradebook."

"I'm not changing your damn grades, Grif."

"Oh, come on! I already know this place is just gonna be like Valhalla Academy! All the time for boring stuff and little time for the cool shit like weapon engineering and designing!"

Simmons stared at Grif blankly, "Your first design was a hunk of sharpened steel slapped to a cheap wooden shaft with duct tape and superglue. It lasted two strikes."

"Like I said, cool shit."

"It fell on you and now you have my arm, you fucktard."

"Cool. Shit."

"And I had to get most of my damn organs replaced with cybernetic parts just so YOU can have them all! Now you've already ruined my lungs and I'm periodically printing paper out of my ass!"

"Hey, I'm using your cerebral cortex here. That was partly your fault, too."

"Uh, 'scuse me?"

The two Reds turned to the person who had the gall to interrupt them. He has slightly unkempt blond hair swept to the side and blue eyes, with a lanky figure that's barely passable in terms of fitness. And he is dressed in probably one of the most comfortable, swanky-looking onesie the two of them had ever seen. Donut would have approved in terms of comfort. Not so much in fashion.

"You're kinda in front of my locker."

"Ah, sorry 'bout that," Simmons shut his locker close and fixed his tie, moving out of the way. The blond nodded his thanks and opened the locker right in the middle of the two.

"By the way, name's Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. Ladies love it," he introduced himself confidently.

"I think that's something you should be saying to girls. Some guys could get the wrong message," Grif replied.

"Especially one in particular," Simmons shuddered along with his partner, images of Donut in tight fitting clothes in some stupid sexy pose passing through their mind.

"Really? I didn't think about that," Jaune admitted, storing his onesie into the locker and taking out a black hoodie, blue pants, and an armor set consisting of a white chest plate, pauldrons, and elbow guards.

"Either ways, name's Richard Simmons, but you can call me Simmons," Simmons introduced himself.

"Don't listen to him. His name's actually Dick," Grif pushed his fellow Red away who grunted in indignation, "I'm Dexter Grif, and I think this is the beginning of a singularly beneficial relationship where I get away with stuff and you take all the blame."

"I'm not sure I want to have that kind of bond," Jaune replied, "But nice to meet you, Simmons and Dexter."

"Grif. Call me Grif. Dexter makes me sound like some serial killer in hiding."

"If you say so, Grif," Jaune tossed on his black hoodie over him, "So what do you guys think will happen today? I heard the rumors that Initiation has been delayed because of that scuffle yesterday."

Grif and Simmons exchanged looks. It appears the news of who the culprits of yesterday's impromptu war are hasn't spread yet. "No clue. Maybe they'll tell us when we meet up after breakfast. Who's the one spreading the news, anyways?"

Jaune shrugged, strapping his chestpiece onto himself, "I dunno her name, but I heard it from this girl last night who had this sleeping bag with frills and doilies for days."

"Did this-" Grif coughed with an exaggerated 'harrumph', knowing an opportunistic prank when he sees one, "-girl say anything else?"

Simmons got the message and kept his mouth shut. Jaune did not seem to catch onto the tone. "She was also complaining about how two other guys never showed up," Jaune continued, unaware of Grif and Simmons looking at each other. "And she kept going on about this new brand of humidifier that's supposed to guarantee a good night sleep and a room full of freshly-scented apple and apricot. I kinda zoned out after that."

' _Donut,'_ they confirmed to each other through eyesight.

"I can introduce you to her if you like. She's passing by right now," he gestured to a blonde girl that was passing by fingering the ends of her hair alongside another blonde girl with loose and messy long hair, "Hey-"

"NO!" Simmons and Grif immediately dogpiled onto the unsuspecting blond, stopping him from calling out to their bane, "You do not know the horror you almost unleashed on us, you fool!"

"W-Whuh?" Jaune groggily replied.

"If you had called out to Donut, we would have been swarmed with his morning woes, and I'm telling you, I do not look forward to that at all," Grif followed up.

"Wait, her name's Donut? What kind of name is Donut?"

"That's not important. I can still remember how many split ends I was practically forced to look at that fateful day eight years ago," Simmons bemoaned.

"It's not something us guys could endure even if we could." Grif affirmed.

"Y-you're certain about that?"

"You bet your damn 100% cotton onesie we are!"

"Oh, it's made of flannel," Jaune corrected, dusting himself as he got up. These guys are strange, but at least they didn't make fun of him for his pajama's like the other guys last night. That has to count for something, right? "Well then, I guess I'll go find Ruby. She might not have heard this yet. Or go hang out with Snow Angel. See you guys!"

"Yeah, don't get eaten out there, Arc," Grif waved the blond goodbye, pulling out a cigarette to smoke, "He seems like a nice guy. How much cash do you think he has on him?"

"From the way I see it, he's gonna get himself into deep shit if he doesn't find himself a good partner. And put that away, Grif. No smoking on the premise."

"Man, you're such a hardass," Grif lit it anyways and took a drag.

"…Goodwitch is going to have a fit, I can tell already," Simmons silently mourned the corruption of his lungs.

* * *

Church felt paranoid.

It had been a good night well spent, with him falling asleep without Tucker or Caboose ( _especially_ Caboose) bothering him much, waking up fully refreshed without anyone actually waking him up, and

And nothing bad has happened thus far.

That is all the reasons he need to feel what he is feeling right now.

Stuff always happen when things are peaceful.

"Lighten up, Church," Tucker assured him, holding his dreadlocks up to tie them into a ponytail. "I'm sure we're allowed at least one off-time in a moment of peace. It's not like the world is out to get us or something." The aqua-clothed teen felt an existential sense of irony from that statement, but ignored it.

"It's just that I'm worried man. The last time something like this happened, Caboose somehow got himself cholera," Church replied. At the mention of his name, Caboose turned to look at the two other Blues, bright eyes hidden underneath the blond jungle of hair. "We got quarantined and I was the only one who could hold his hands while he cried himself to sleep every night as the doctors gave shots up his ass. That's not a sight I want to see ever again."

"I'm gonna take a vitamin," Caboose immediately stated, rummaging into his locker in search of his life savior.

"What I'm trying to say is, you need to loosen up, man. Like, just yell at us like you always do. That always seems to cheer you up."

"Hey, watch it man," Church lightly punched Tucker's shoulder, "Keep cheering me up like that, and I might just start thinking we're best friends."

"Whatever. At least you're not acting all sore like I was after I crashed a bachelorette party back in Chorus County."

"You? At a bachelorette party?" Church snorted, "You expect me to believe you slept with an entire bachelorette party?

"I want you to, but really, the groom showed up and cracked three of my ribs," Tucker easily admitted to his farce, checking his alien artifact for any nicks.

"That's more like it," the fohawked teen closed his locker and straightened the weapon on his back, "Anyways, what do you think we're gonna do today? No one seems to know we're part of the reason why Initiation might not be today yet, and I ain't exactly fond of waiting for stuff to jump out at me."

"Ooh, ooh! Maybe they'll have us make lunchboxes! Ooh, I wish I knew how to set up a plastic container!" Caboose shook his hands in excitement, long-sleeve shirt waving around erratically. Freckles shook along, slung over Caboose's shoulders like a bag.

"For all we know, we might actually have to do that," Church replied, much to Caboose's further glee, "We're not just gonna sit around and wait. Things don't happen like that. Probably some kind of frosh orientation or some kind of battle royale." He rolled his shoulders and walked towards the cafeteria, Tucker and Caboose following after him out of muscle memory.

"This is a school that is training pubescent, hormonal teenagers who are still trying to adjust to the new sensations and feelings in their body to become murderous combatants," Tucker gave his insight on the issue, "I don't see how it won't be some kind of battle royale."

"...God fuckin' damnit, Tucker. You just had to say those words, huh?"

"It was gonna happen without me saying anything."

* * *

(moments earlier)

"What?!"

Yang cringed at the high-pitched cry her little sister made. At least she didn't burst into tears this time. "Yeah, news was coming around saying that we might not have Initiation today. Instead, we'll be doing something else that has to do with socializing."

Ruby groaned as she weakly pounded her locker. Why? What has she done to deserve this fate? Was it because of all the cookies she ate from the cookie jar years ago and said it was Zwei's fault? Was it because she 'borrowed' some material from Uncle Qrow's stash when she was designing Crescent Rose without asking him? Or most importantly, was this Yang's fault?

"Aw, cheer up, sis. That only means you finally have the chance to make yourself more friends than enemies," Yang attempted to cheer her little sister up, to no avail.

"But that means awkward small talks and "getting-to-know-you" stuffs, Yang! I don't want to do any of that, and if I do, I don't want to look stupid, help me!"

The blonde softly combed her hair with her hands, "You need to start with common ground, Ruby. Here, just follow my lead," she turned to the effeminate boy beside her, "Yo, Donut, how's the search for split ends?"

"Just terrible," Donut frowned at the mirror, inspecting his hair. "I've found enough split ends, and now I'm starting to think my conditioner isn't doing what it's supposed to be doing. I think I'm gonna have to ask for a refund. This is just an outrage!"

"Oh, join the club, buddy," Yang gave an exhausted groan at the mention of hair products, "One time, at Dust and Body Works, their conditioner didn't give the 'oomph' and 'swish' I was looking for and instead, made my hair stiff and smelling so unladylike. Dad and Ruby almost had to restrain me when I tried to get back at them for ruining my hair."

"The horror!" Donut gasped, "I can't imagine what it's like to have such stiff hair-"

At that point, Ruby realized that this wasn't a lesson anymore and more Yang forgetting about her and doing Yang stuff instead. Why the fuss about hair? It's best when kept short, anyways. It's very easy to maintain and it doesn't get stuck to her comb whenever she styles it.

Doesn't mean she's gonna diss Yang's hair in front of her. She's not that dumb.

Silver eyes wandered over to the mystery suitcase Donut had left out his locker. Oh, it's such a beauty. There are crevices and seams that can only mean openings that would shift into something else. And let's not forget the spout attached at the corner. Ruby distinctly remembered that particular part being on a flamethrower on the recent Weapons Magazine release. Not that hard to forget when it's right inside the infamous 'Gulchian weapon collection' category. Plus, it's big. Big enough to for her to squeeze inside! That can only mean it's really awesome, right?! Not as awesome as Crescent Rose, of course, but still!

"Anyways, let's just get breakfast and think about this later. If we're gonna have to fight our way out of this place, then it pays to be prepared when things go wrong, right?" she heard an approaching group with the guy in front, who was wearing a leather jacket over a tank top, talking to two other boys.

She shook her head and turned towards the weapons that were walking past. The blond boy with messy hair's weapon is really classical; an Atlesian assault rifle hanging on his back that doesn't seem to be worse for wear, as if it had recently been crafted or perfectly maintained. The dark-skinned boy in aqua blue… turquoise… sea-foam green dress shirt (ahh whatever) with dreadlock ponytail had knives strapped in places around him and some kind of handlebar magnetically attached to the side of his right leg. Two Huntsmen-in-training that prefer the classics right next to each other… she can respect that.

The leading guy of that group was the only one with a mecha-shift… a mecha-shift weapon that looks _very_ familiar.

Then it hit her. Ruby Rose, meet tunnel vision, your situational best friend.

"Is that an Anti-Materiel Lancer Rifle?!"

* * *

Church felt kind of surprised and creeped out about the little girl that appeared out of nowhere right to the front of him, eyes gleaming and walking around him like he's an interesting specimen. Mind you, he doesn't mind being gawked at from a distance by girls in general, but doing up close is a rather new experience for him.

And she's cute. The small kind of cute. The kind of cute that makes you wanna buy her a pony and saddle her up.

"Uhh… can I help you, little Red?" he decided that he can't avoid talking to her.

"That! Is that an Anti-Materiel Lancer Rifle!?" again, Little Red questioned him, pointing at the sniper rifle on his back.

"I'm surprised there's someone who knows weapons just as much as Tex, Carolina, and Wash," Tucker remarked, eyes scanning out for chicks. Little Red here doesn't count as one. He has standards, after all.

"She… she is so small…" Caboose commented meekly.

Church decided to respond to her, "Yep. What's it to you?"

"I heard that only the elite of the elite of both Gulchian Military and Huntsmen could use such an awesome weapon without any complications," the little girl rattled out in a single breath, walking around the coat-clad Gulchian. Good God, they could even _smell_ the passion in her voice… no wait, it's just the rose petals. Where did they even come from? "That must mean you're really good at using your spear, right?"

"Oh, he's good at 'using his spear', alright," Tucker chuckled. She did not react as intended.

"Ooh, I wanna see it now! Can I? Please? Show me yours, I'll show you mine!" she chattered excitedly.

"Uhh, sure," Church ignored Tucker's obligatory _'Bow-chicka-bow-wow'_ in the background to focus on his weapon, taking it off his back and handing it the girl who squealed at the size of his weapon.

"Oof!" she almost keeled over from the sheer weight, and once she was used to it, her eyes sparkled, "Whoa! I never thought I would actually hold an AMLR model so early. Just look at the specs on this baby," eyes hovered hungrily over every part the weapon had to offer, "The chamber is chambered to fire single shots before it has to be reloaded manually... and it fires 20×102mm lightning Dust ammunition! The recoil must be really killer! Ooh, I don't think I could handle that at all, and I'm only using .50 BMG's for Crescent Rose..." she bemoaned, turning the beautiful piece of work to inspect it further. She did not notice the amount of surprise the three... two guys were giving her. Caboose was just staring at the girl, noticing something else about her.

"Okay, wow. I hope Tex doesn't hear this, but you are so much better than her at weapon appraisal. And that is saying something." Church praised her rather shamelessly. That slapped the funk out of Little Red Riding Hood, who reverted into the meek little girl she appears as.

"Hehehe~" she giggled shyly, preening at the compliment, "It's a hobby. I just really, really like weapons. It's like meeting new people, except better."

"No kidding? I noticed when you practically started drooling over my weapon. Church, by the way," Church said rather sarcastically and introduced himself. She made a weird expression at his statement. "It's common courtesy to introduce yourself before anything else, Red. Or do you want to be known as Red Riding Hood for the rest of the school year?"

"Oh!" she realized and straightened up, "R-Ruby Rose... nice to meet you." She slightly hesitated, then, "So, what kind of name is Church?"

"Blame my dad. I didn't choose it," Church retorted, which Ruby giggled at.

"Tucker, at your service," Tucker immediately pushed Church away to introduce himself, "And I have to say, you are definitely one of the many reasons this school will be fun. Mostly because Tex will not like you for being better than her at something."

"Yeah, no kidding," Church confirmed, giving his friend a good glare for the unsanctioned push.

"Err… thank you?" Ruby replied uncertainly. Hopefully, she'll never have to meet this Tex person. Weiss already didn't like her very much, she doesn't want another negative friend.

"I'm Caboose," the last of the trio finally spoke up brightly. He didn't say any more, which slightly confused (and surprised) the other two.

"Hello, Caboose!"

…

…

…

…

Ah, there was that painful awkward silence. Rubby appears to be looking for something to talk about, and her eyes landed on the awesome weapon in her hands once more.

"SO!" she made an exaggerated cough, "What's your weapon's name?"

"Huh?" Church replied eloquently.

"Your weapon! This!" She shook the lancer rifle at his face. He secretly feared for its life. "What's its name?"

Now that's a good question... not really. "It doesn't have a name. I just call it Sniper Rifle."

"WHAT?!" she screamed an octave higher than the boys are used to, "The weapon is every Huntsmen's pride and treasure! It is an extension of our own body! It-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to stop you right there, Red," Church held a hand up. Ruby looked miffed that her rant was stopped prematurely, "As much as I would _love_ to hear what you want to say, I don't think it will be very responsible. At the rate you were going, we would be stuck into the afternoon with you mooning over your gardening tool."

"Crescent Rose is not a gardening tool!" she defended her baby, but conceded his point, "This isn't over, Church... I will make certain you give your weapon a name that will kick butt, and there's nothing you can do about it!" She returned the AMLR with delicate care and zipped away, leaving a trail of rose buds. She then promptly returned, "And good day to you three! I hope you make it in!" …and zipped away again.

"…Well. That happened. I think I might like her."

Caboose gasped in sudden horror, "Are you going to replace me with her, Church?"

"Why the hell would I want to replace you? I need my daily dose of anger stemming from levels of inadequacy I will never admit I have, and all of it comes from you."

"Oh, okay~!"

"Yeah, he's inadequate, alright, if you know what I mean."

"Shut the fuck up, Tucker."

"Stop making it so easy then."

* * *

"And that's why those assholes are my assholes," Tex finished.

The school janitor finished sweeping the floor, checking for any stray debris that may have eluded his sights, "I'm sure they're aware of that. What I do want to know is why _you're_ here, Tex. You never liked going to school."

The redhead shrugged, "A way to pass the time, something to calm my nerves, I don't have anything to do, I need to look after the dumbasses to make sure they don't do anything stupid, take your pick. But honestly, you of all people should already know why I'm here."

Wash frowned underneath his tinted shades, "It's Gulch, isn't it?" He didn't need her to say anything to confirm anything, "And Ozpin has almost every information you need."

Tex nodded affirmatively, "I don't like any of this. Ozpin may be wise, but even wisdom can be outmaneuvered by careful planning."

Wash remained silent as Tex launched into her tirade. He had learned from years of experience fighting alongside and against her that she isn't the friendliest person to get along with, but you can be sure that she will back you up if you need it, and when she backs you up, she backs up _hard_.

She isn't one of Gulch's single-digit soldiers for nothing, after all… well, _former_ , at least.

"I'll keep a lookout and give you some updates when I get them," Wash ended her ranting before it got out of hand. She grunted in the affirmative, which is just Tex-an for 'thanks', "In the meantime, have fun being a student. I bet you could recruit some students here to form a union under the guise of a club."

She snorted, "As a matter of fact, I've already started. You heard of Pyrrha Nikos?"

"The young Mistrallian champion?" Wash rose a brow in intrigue, "That's some firepower you picked up. How'd you manage to get her so fast? Rather, why's a cereal box girl here?"

"Eh. Coincidence. Don't know, but really convenient," Tex dusted herself and approached the entrance of the auditorium, "Things are about to take a turn, Wash. Control's planning _something_. Church and the others may not be aware of this, but they'll need to be prepared when it finally comes. I need to be alert. You should as well."

Wash lightly chuckled, "Does that mean you've forgiven me for-?"

"Hell no," Tex grinned ferociously, revealing serrated, shark-like teeth. "I still need to deck you properly for shooting me in the leg, asshole. Don't tell me you thought I'd forget?"

He fixed his shades into place, smiling underneath his balaclava, "I wouldn't dream of it, Allison." Unspoken was, _'You always did take grudges seriously.'_

* * *

Every student made their way into the auditorium, talking amongst themselves about the upcoming school year. Some remained taciturn and secluded, others acted rambunctiously and excitedly, few were nervous beyond measures, and then there are those who are just happy to be wherever they happen to be. An example of that happens to be the resident pinky (and slightly dumb) boy. Another is the blond from the Blue Army, but we'll get to that later.

"There you guys are!" Simmons and Grif stiffened at Donut's voice, "Where were you guys last night?! I stayed up all night going over our itinerary, and fell asleep without my two favorite guyfriends cuddling up!"

"Well, sorry, princess," the latter snarked, "We just thought that you needed space to wax your legs. You know how embarrassing it is for us to just watch you."

"Silly Grif! If you wanted, I would have done your legs too! I know just the perfect remedy for-"

"I was fucking joking, Donut. I don't want my legs waxed."

Simmons chose that time to interject, "Actually, studies show that removal of hair from the legs boosts performance and comfort purposes for athletes all around."

Grif scoffed, "And you wonder why girls don't pay attention to you."

Simmons suddenly became very conscious of the attention girls were suddenly giving him, "S-shut up, Grif! Why d-did you h-have to mention g-g-g-girls!? Y-you know I-I-I'm conscious a-around them!"

"Case in point. I make girls look at you to make you shut up, and I get some peace of mind. The system works."

[El sistema no funciona de esa manera. Sólo funciona cuando Sarge está presente y se dispara al menos 4 veces. **/** _The system doesn't work like that. It only works when Sarge is present and shoots you at least 4 times._ ] Lopez sarcastically corrected the bulky Red.

"You tell him, Lopez!" Donut mistranslated Lopez, as per usual, "Grif should definitely ask Sarge to come to me for a leg wax!"

[¿Por qué te molestas responder si no me entiende? **/** _Why do you bother replying if you don't understand me?_ ] the hidden robot asked with as much irritation his voice module can muster.

The effeminate boy tapped Lopez's head, catching sight of the headmaster stepping up the podium, "Shh, Lopez! We can talk about your molesting tendencies later!"

[Yo le matare en su sueño. **/** _I will kill you in your sleep._ ]

The wizardly man stood at the microphone, gazing studiously at the crowd of aspiring Huntsmen and Huntresses, a jaded expression only briefly touching his features before he cleared his throat for the opening speech.

" _I'll try to keep this brief,"_ Ozpin began, sliding his crooked glasses back up. The entirety of the room fell silent at his words. _"Today, you come in, prepared to take the next step in your lives. Whether it is to prove your worth to the world at large, to hone your craft and acquire new skill sets,"_ his eyes gazed over the audience, noting the nervousness of some of the whispering, aspiring students, _"to achieve a personal goal that will become a public statement without a doubt,"_ he gazed at certain special students, " _or most primarily,_ _to become a Huntsmen or Huntress_ …"

He paused to sip from his mug, ruining the bleak and cryptic atmosphere he had been setting up.

" _Know this, and engrave it into your mind:_ Your peaceful life is over."

If it had been silent before, it is now completely muted.

" _Beacon Academy is not the end of your journey. It is merely the beginning of a new, arduous, and much harsher lifestyle. Every choice you make will now bear consequences, no matter the severity. Every day will be long. Some of you will not cope with what lies ahead. All we professors can do for you is try to prepare you for what is to come."_

Ozpin's eyes scanned the audience once more, noting that some of the young ones had frozen. If his speech alone was all that was needed to frighten them or give them a severe reality check… then, they are not prepared.

" _In the end though, whatever your future holds, know that you yourself will play a pivotal role."_

By the end, the headmaster's eyes had hardened, though only a few who were attentive enough managed to catch a glimpse of it before they returned to its relaxed features, _"You also may have heard rumors of Initiation being pushed back due to certain complications rising up. Allow me to disabuse you of that notion."_

Ozpin took another brief sip from his mug,

" _Initiation begins_ today _."_

…

Amidst the silent, stunned crowd came a singular "YES!" from a certain red-hooded girl.

" _And it begins_ now _."_

…

"Wait, what?"

" _Before, we would have our Initiation in the Emerald Forest, where each aspiring student would be launched to retrieve a certain artifact,"_ Ozpin continued placidly, either ignoring the question or hearing it and simply not caring, _"But this year will be a rather special one. Due to certain events that have happened in the past 24 hours, it was decided that there will be a different kind of Initiation today."_

He ignored the scowl and glare that his Deputy Headmistress was giving him behind his back with repeated experience, content with sipping from his mug once more and continuing, _"If you direct your attention to the back, there are tables with a variety of Dust ammunitions and crystals set on it, categorized in their respective elements. These are a special type of Dust, in that they are 'non-lethal',"_ if Ozpin had bothered putting that nice cup of coffee down, he would have made the quote gesture along with those two words, _"Please apply your weapons with these now. Oh, and as they say, first come first serve. There's only a limited supply."_

With that said, the students all scrambled towards the table, some even jumping others just to hog the Dust for their own. Ozpin felt that it is wise to not mention that this was a last-minute change. Once all the tables were all wiped clear, he continued,

" _You must be wondering why I had this type of Dust laid about. This is part of your Initiation. To put it in the most simplest terms…"_

The intercom above the Headmaster blared to life, and a gruff Southern Gulchian accent hollered through, " **Beat each other up until 60 students remain standing! Over and out!** "

"… _What Professor Sarge said so concisely,"_ Ozpin finished and turned around to leave the auditorium, Glynda following suit. He had no wish to be a part of the incoming mess. The ringing ears helped bolster that wish. _"With that said, you have one hour. You may begin as soon as the door slams shut."_

Everyone was quiet as they watched Ozpin leave, his footsteps working like a ticking time bomb for what would become an explosion of mass proportion. The door opened, and the two professors left the large room.

And when the door slammed close…

"EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!"

Chaos erupted.

* * *

 **A/N: I ain't gonna apologize for what I did. I did it too many times to begin caring again.**

 **In other news, I have no clue how hacking works. If there's anyone willing to correct me though, I'm more than happy to correct the mistake. Then again, I'm 93% sure hacking's pretty damn illegal, but I won't report you. I swear on my worthless life.**

 **-DarkAkatsuk1**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Red vs. Blue, nor do I own RWBY. My method of storytelling is writing out scenes first, and then changing the font into Comic Sans. If I can't take the scene seriously, I rewrite the whole thing over. Now you know why I take so long to update. 100% legit reason.

* * *

Chapter 5

* * *

One of the first lessons Jaune Arc was taught was to "drop, cover, and hold on". He did not know why his father thought this was a good idea, but it had saved his sorry butt many times afterwards, so he didn't question it. Thus, it became a skill he decided to make use of.

So when the doors slammed shut, it was understandable that his first instinct was to drop, cover, and hold. However, in his panic-ridden mind, Jaune didn't know how to proceed with the third step, which led to him grabbing the ankles of an unsuspecting student who chose that exact moment to make his move… which made him trip at the sudden loss of usage in his legs, ingloriously falling to the ground and landing spectacularly on his nose, Aura not activating in time to absorb the blow.

Jaune Arc drew first blood, as evident by the massive nosebleed afterwards. And no one had a clear picture of what really happened except for a certain nearby redhead.

Everyone in his immediate vicinity turned towards the sound of the *THUD!*, and saw the unconscious form of a student with blood leaking out of his nose. Eyes gleaming, they chose him as their first target to eliminate.

The blond did not know how he managed to escape the many weapons and projectiles that shot his way, but he did, and now that he's been cornered with only a sword and shield in hand, he tried to find the correct set of words that could explain his current predicament.

He managed only one.

"Crap."

The crowd suddenly dispersed, garnering his confusion. It cleared away when he caught the sight of a fellow blond with an assault rifle bulldozing everyone away with a charge full of reckless abandon, sending everyone in his path flying in the air. He couldn't hear what the guy was saying, but he did catch the words, _"I hate babies!"_ Gosh, he hopes he doesn't have to fight him any time soon.

Suddenly realizing that there were still two people who were in shock by the charge, the blond bash his shield against one of them and clumsily duck a slash from the other, inadvertently damaging his adversary as he stumbled forward and headbutted his crotch. Muttering a quick apology, he slashed the Huntsman-in-training who dropped his hands toward his holy region, quickly dropping his Aura into a red zone.

Jaune decides that his best option at the moment is to run away. His immediate danger has been thwarted, and everyone else is either distracted by the baby-hating blond or is being decimated by another blonde who has shotgun shells in her gun for days in the distance. He took a moment to look at the blonde. Correction, shotgun-gauntlet. Then she turned in his direction. Wait, isn't she that one girl next to Ruby who he accidentally vomited on at the airship? Her sister, or something?

' _Nope!'_ he immediately dives in a random direction, and rolls like a log until he bumps into something. Looking up, he is met with a pile of moaning bodies. "S'up, Arc? Fancy meeting you here," Grif greets the unfortunate blond, casually sitting against that same pile while checking his weapon, which Jaune notes to be a strange-looking grenade launcher with a large curved knife attached to it. Dang, that thing looks scary.

"De- Grif, I know this is a little late," the blond pants, "but is everyone here supposed to be so insanely overpowered?!"

"You'd be surprised," the orange-shirted Red affirms, pulling the lever on top of his weapon and loading a Dust missile into it. "I'm kind of surprised myself. I have managed to survive this long without Simmons or anyone to help me. Then again, I did play dead the moment Ozzy left, so there's that."

Jaune moaned in despair. That wasn't helpful at all! Crap, oh crap, oh crap! All he wanted was to become a hero. Sure, his skills aren't the greatest, but he had hoped that with the time he spent at Beacon, it would grow on its own and by the time he graduates, it'll be like he never cheated his way into the prestigious academy. Never did he think that the Initiation would pit every other student against each other!

He shakes his head, "Alright, so do you have a plan, Grif?"

"Wing it."

"What?"

"Wing it," Grif repeats. "It's not like you'll die if it fails."

"But that doesn't sound like a safe plan at all!"

"Alright, then sit there and cry. I need to find Lopez before he goes all Terminator on everyone. We don't need another sequel of that. The things I do to be lazy." With that said, Grif ran away from the scene in search of his robotic comrade, not that Jaune knew that. With his departure, however, Jaune immediately found himself surrounded once more, and this time he didn't have any leg room to run.

"Crap baskets."

At those words, the crowd dispersed once more. He's beginning to wonder if 'crap' is the magical word that would get him out of trouble now. Looking at his savior, he is met with the sight of red and gold dancing in the form of a young, redheaded girl. Stalwart and graceful, a gilded xiphos sang through the air at the dividing crowd as an equally as gilded hoplon shield repelled any assault and reprisal towards him and her respectively. As quickly as she had appeared, any combatants that had been chasing Jaune dispersed, for they did not wish to engage the Invincible Girl.

Not that he knew that nickname. He had never felt more thankful to see the cereal box girl in his life, and in his joy, he blurted out mindlessly,

"Well, isn't this some crap?"

She smiled, "Hello again!" Jaune heard her greet him cheerily. Err, he meant champion… wait, what was she the champion of? What's it again? "I see you're in some trouble, Jaune?"

"Hehe, I guess? It happened too fast. I just did the first thing that came to mind."

"I saw." Her immediate response made him blush in embarrassment, "It was a dirty move, but otherwise a tactical decision. I look forward to see what else you can think of."

' _Please don't,'_ his mind screamed in fear. Pyrrha paused and pointed at a bleeding scratch on his face, "You're bleeding, Jaune. Why aren't you using your Aura to heal it up?"

"My what?"

"Your Aura."

"Gesundheit."

Pyrrha would have said more, but an aimed shot from behind halted the conversation. She deflected it easily and raised her shield and sword into a trained stance.

"Stay by me, and don't wander far, Jaune. In fact, don't leave my side. We can talk about your issue later."

Jaune felt it would be wise to comply with her instead of showing off some bravado, "Err, okay."

* * *

There are many things that piss Church off. People who fuck with his scope, people who think they can just order him around, people who act all high and mighty, people who talk too much, cholera, Caboose on some days, Tucker on some days, Tex when she's on her period or when she's just acting like a total bitch, the Red Team when they blame him for something…

…You know what, scratch that. He hates everything.

This particular situation would count as something that just can't seem to go his way, though such events have happened far too many times, so he got used to it.

Ramming the shaft end of his weapon against his current opponent and then swinging it wildly behind his back to hit another attempting to take him out without his notice, Church rammed his spear against the ground to rest for a while, uncaring for the damage it made on the floor. The supplied Dust ammunition did not have what his Sniper Rifle fired, so he was forced to use his weapon form instead.

Honestly, fuck Sarge. He's starting to remember why he hated that senile bastard's guts. THIS was the reason why; because everything that guy does always makes him get out of his comfort zone and in effect, piss him off.

"Hello, Church."

He froze. Of course she would be here. Why wouldn't she? Turning around, he beheld her very angry form. And holy shit, she looked as pissed as an alpha Beowulf with raging gonorrhea. Imagine having sharp teeth that can bite through metal, claws that can tear walls down without a struggle, and having a burning crotch that felt as if a colony of fire ants decided to make a colony there at the same time… Yeah. Not a very pretty thought.

He resigned himself to his inevitable fate. "Hey, Tex."

His greeting was reciprocated with a foot into the face.

"That's it? _"Hey, Tex"_ is all you have to say, Church?" Tex grinded her boot against the downed boy's cheek. He managed to keep a straight expression through the pain.

"What else do you want me to say? Oh, I got one, ' _Welcome back, bitch. Would you like a serving of kickass? Because we are fresh out since seven years ago._ ' How 'bout that?"

His face went further into the cracked wood floor.

"Don't give me that bullshit, Church. You ran away from Atlas and left me behind. What the hell do you have to say for yourself?"

Church remembered that day as clear as if it was three months ago. Tex totally didn't need his help nor did she need Tucker's, Caboose's, or the Reds' to help her. If anything, the number of miniguns, grenade launchers, assault rifles with explosive-tipped ammunitions, and grenades used by Tex in their escape from Atlas meant that she was completely, totally fine on her own. Hell, they may as well have tied her feet and arms together behind her back, and she would still be able to hand a platoon of Atlesian soldier ass back to their parents on gold platters, complete with fine silverware utensils and vintage Mistrallian red. She's _that_ good.

Not that he's gonna say that, of course.

"…Welcome back. I knew you would make it."

Tex made a final, well-deserved stomp on Church, before sighing in defeat. She couldn't hold a grudge for long on Church, even if she tried. He's too special, in more ways than one.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm back." She pulled Church up to his feet and continued, "Now, let's go get my other idiots."

"I just got stomped on several times by my girlfriend, who is one of the best Gulch has ever produced in several decades. I am entitled to have a break when she kicks my ass."

"Well, your entitlement is known only to you. Now come on, you big baby. We have a test to finish."

* * *

"Yo, Caboose! CABOOSE! CABOOOOOSE!" Tucker shouted in panic at the approaching blond, waving his arms frantically just to be safe.

"Oh, hello Tucker!" the special Blue greeted his companion as if he hadn't just ran like a freight train through a crowd of students. "Have you seen Church? I need to tell him something important!"

"Not now! We are Screwed with a capital 's'!" the sea-foam green clothed Blue interjected in panic. "Tex is here, and she is _pissed_ like a motherfucker!"

"Oh, that. I was going to tell Church that."

The two ducked to avoid an unfortunate fellow who got launched away by the power of a shotgun-enhanced punch from some smirking blonde chick that Tucker is going to hit on later, probably maybe. They hid behind a groaning pile consisting of those who got knocked out early in the initiation, "Alright, so MAYBE we should have told her that we would be attending this oh-so-wonderful academy."

"Tex was busy, though."

"Yes, Caboose. We've established that before we came here. I'm trying to say that we should have told her something anyways."

"Silly Tucker," Caboose laughed in a silly manner. Tucker felt justified to be ticked off from being called 'silly' by Caboose, of all people, "Tex was on her period. She kept making people bleed around her, and Church said to never be near her when she's doing that."

"That is not how periods work!" he yelled, scanning the surroundings for something to help them out. He took out a Dust grenade he managed to nick from the tables earlier and threw it at his compatriot, "Alright! Caboose, I need your help. Throw the grenade at the ceiling as hard as you can!"

"Okay!" Caboose immediately pulled the pin and let go of the explosive. Tucker blankly stared at the grenade rolling towards him.

"…Oh my God, I should fucking shoot you right now."

"That's okay. You did your best, Tucker."

"No no no, you actually _dropped_ the grenade at our feet, you complete dumbass."

"And I forgive you."

"Whu- fuck off! If I die, Caboose, I'm gonna haunt your ass!" Tucker grabbed the unpinned device and threw it as hard as he could up high, which detonated a half-second later. The ceiling crumbled and fell, landing on an unfortunate number of students who either didn't see the sky falling or didn't make it out in time. "I swear, you are going to be the death of me one day!"

Caboose began firing at the smoke the collapsed ceiling created, shouting "Covering fire!" Which is pretty moot, since all he's doing is shooting confetti out at high speed while the AI in the rifle did all the work for him.

「 _Target suppresse- target suppres- target suppre- target suppr- target su- target- tar-_ 」Freckles spoke in rapid-fire as special Dust bullets took down a good number of students who were dumb enough to be in Caboose's line of fire. The power of a subscription to command "Aimbot" is fearsome, indeed. Now, if only Caboose could still make use of his limited number of brain cells…

Actually, never mind. Tucker had seen what happens in Caboose's mind, and isn't cruel enough to let others suffer what the messy blond's mind can concoct if left to its own device.

* * *

Weiss Schnee felt that for all intents and purposes, this is going to be the worst week she ever has to live through.

Starting off with the disastrous day yesterday, when this Ruby Rose girl, who is too young to be attending Beacon anyway, sneezed and made an explosion, two groups of utter cretins decided that was a signal to shoot at each other. Her servants were injured by the altercation, and while she only got hit by the brunt force of part of the pavement, it tarnished her pride greatly.

The fact that Ruby pulled her to safety only made it worse for her.

Then today, some tall, blond, and scrawny guy named Juan or another tried to hit on her while she was trying to secure some form of connection with the Mistrallian champion Pyrrha Nikos. She is certain she made a fool out of herself for losing face in front of her prospective comrade for asking the Invincible Girl to help her in that sticky situation.

Now? She's fighting some hoodlum entirely covered in clothes, from top to bottom. Not a single bit of skin is shown underneath the tanned leather that is plastered across his frame. A mask of Atlesian heritage adorned his face, completely hiding his features sans a glowing red dot that is in place where his right eye should be at.

"I'll admit," Weiss began, tactics and footwork planning out inside her mind, "It is rare to find another Atlas native here, but what right do you have that you think you can attack me and not be punished for it?"

[Soy el Terminador, puta. **/** _I'm the Terminator, bitch._ ] He responded emotionlessly and readied his belt-fed Atlas-issued LMG. Weiss prepared many Glyphs, Myrtenaster in hand to enhance her Semblance's effect. She did not have to worry much, however.

"Lopez, you idiot! Now is not the time to go full-on Terminator!" A scream of panic made itself known. Lopez, as he is now named, nearly dropped his weapon at the holler and looked in the direction it came from.

Weiss recognized the orange-themed teenager as the one who dodged the pavement that kissed her face the previous day, and in a split-second, her target changed. She summoned a Glyph underneath him, causing him to be launched into the air.

"No, not again!" He yelled out in a panicky voice. For some reason, he also covered his crotch as he was waving about comically midair.

Lopez immediately began firing at her, preventing her from continuing any attacks she had planned. She did not run so much as dance, her Glyphs helping her glide across the ruined floor like a professional ice skater, all while Myrtenaster's cylinder spun as she began her counterattack and shot Dust blasts at her adversary. Lopez endured the number of Dust blasts, but was unfortunate enough to get one of them lodged in his arm. That is going to take a long time to fix.

Grif landed unceremoniously and looked around to make sure there aren't any nutcrackers waiting to crack his nuts, "Oh, thank God. I thought I was gonna-" He saw one of the bolts the Schnee heiress shot at Lopez aiming towards him. In his euphoria of not getting his nuts shot, he neglected to cover his crotch and thus, his nuts got crushed. "…eeeeEEEEEEEE-" What came out of him is a strangled, high-pitched squeal that couldn't possibly come from an adult male.

The cry was enough to warrant Weiss' attention, and in that split second, Lopez finished reloading and prepped for another barrage. [Te tengo. / _Got you._ ]

"Weiss!" A red, rose-forming blur sped past her and collided against the leather-covered assailant, whose aim was disrupted. Thus, the bullets that were meant for one unprepared person were spent on a crowd of unprepared students, which eliminated almost all of them from the Initiation.

[Puta! / _Bitch!_ ] Lopez grabbed Ruby with an arm and threw her away so easily. Ruby did not look the least bit fazed, and aimed her scythe to shoot at him midair. Lopez At the same time, she used the recoil from Crescent Rose to propel herself towards the ceiling and spin rapidly towards her opponent, using gravity to her advantage.

"Yaaaah!" She swung her scythe at the leather guy, who lowered his LMG and punched at her… no, he punched the side of her scythe. As they were spinning. It was extremely well-timed. Weiss found herself impressed at the feat. The force behind it was enough to knock the redhead's weapon to the side, redirecting it towards the floor instead. The scythe embedded deep into the floor, and Lopez took that chance to plant a solid push kick against Ruby's chest. She flew back in a crumple, coughing from the unexpected weight behind the kick.

"Ruby!" A blonde girl yelled out, which Weiss recognized as Yang the previous night. And with her is that black-haired girl with that book. Suddenly, she felt very apprehensive, not because of the fact that the latter had managed to get close to her without her knowing, but the fact that Yang looked extremely, fuck-all _pissed_.

"We better move," the black haired girl with the bow said to her.

"YOU BASTARD!" Yang snarled, red orbs replacing her lilac eyes as she charged towards the robed guy, who was not prepared for the not-so-unexpected assault. She released an onslaught of shotgun-powered punches on Lopez, tearing apart bits upon bits of his wardrobe, before releasing a battle cry as she finished it with a powerful haymaker that resounded in the entire room, its shockwaves reverberating the air itself.

[Ai yai yai!] The guy screamed robotically, flying erratically away from Yang's righteous anger-filled punch.

"Take that, monster! You will never harm my sister again!" she screamed into the distance, her anger well spent. Ruby soon recovered from the kick, Aura speeding up the process.

"Weiss? Are you okay?"

"I had it under control, Ruby Rose," Weiss gritted out. "

"But you got distracted! I saw it! You turned your head to look at some guy who screamed like a girl!" Ruby pointed at the orange-shirted teen… who was no longer there. "Oh wait, he's not there anymore. But he was there earlier!"

"I did no such thing!" Weiss blushed at the accusation.

"We all saw it, Ice Queen," Yang backed her sister up, having cooled off from her anger-induced rampage. "You saw it too, didn't you, Blake?"

"Yup."

"Ugh!" Weiss raised her arm in exasperation. "I don't have time for this. I have an Initiation to pass, and spending any more time with you louts will only hurt my chances of getting into Beacon!"

"Look, Weiss," Ruby suddenly stared sharply at the heiress, who got caught off guard by the sudden forwardness. "We're at the end of our ropes, and you're at the end of yours. Things aren't perfect, but we need to work together if we want to pass this. You don't like me, I get that. But you need people to help you just as we need others to help us. The point is, you can trust me. And if we're all going to get through this, it'll be with people we can trust."

Weiss stood stock still at the impassioned speech. Yang reacted the opposite way.

"Aww, Ruby! That was so deep. My little sister is growing up so fast." The older blonde embraced Ruby, rubbing her face against her adorable little sister's, just to get her love through.

"Hehe, yeah. I read this book back in Signal about creating bonds in fights; speak to the central pain, differentiate, and reinforce trust."

And like that, Ruby's awesome moment disappeared like a fart in the air. Still, Weiss had to give her credit for trying. She gave a deep, prolonged sigh.

"Alright then. You're the leader." She immediately regretted saying those words, as Ruby disappeared and reappeared right next to her in a flash of rose buds, one arm draped over her shoulders.

"You will not regret this, Weiss, best bud! We are going to be the most awesome-est team Beacon has ever known!"

"I'm already regretting this," the heiress muttered.

"Don't make conclusions so quickly, Ice Queen," Yang chipped, reloading her gauntlets. "It's not very nice to assume. You make an ass out of "u" and "me"."

It took a moment for the people around to figure out that Yang had just made a lame pun, and they collectively groaned.

"Whatever. My puns are awesome. Right, Blake?"

"Hmm."

"…I like her," she said sarcastically.

* * *

"Ack!" Simmons squawked as the ceiling collapsed on a number of students, creating a plume of dust that filled the auditorium. Who the hell did that?! That is totally coming out of his paycheck! If it was Grif, fuck that guy! If it was Tucker, fuck that guy as well! If it was Caboose… well, that would be expected of him and he can't do anything about it. But really, who was it?!

[Ai yai yai!] Lopez said as he collapsed next to Simmons, the robot's head slightly tilted from getting a hard punch from one of the student. There was also a hole in his arm with Dust filled in it, and god damn does he look fucked up. His clothes are all torn up and stuff, singed to the point that his metal skin is almost revealing.

"Oh, Lopez! Thank God you're here!" Simmons cried in relief. A mortally-"wounded" Grif approached the two of them as well, dragging his weapon along the floor. "Oh, and Grif too."

Grif gasped out, "Fuck. You." He gasped harder for breath and leaned on Lopez for support. "Balls. Need. Healing. Got. Shot. Schnee needs good punching."

[Sí. Porque estar cerca ayuda siempre a la situación. / _Yes. Because me being nearby always helps the situation._ ] Lopez responded sarcastically.

"Yeah, the situation really got out of control! This is all Sarge's fault, I'm certain of it!"

[Guau. ¿Cómo llegaste a esa conclusión? / _Wow. How did you arrive at that conclusion?_ ] Again, Lopez snarked at the nerdy Red.

"You're right, Lopez. We need to get allies before we get ourselves eliminated!"

[¡Pensaste eso, idiota! / _You thought that up yourself, idiot!_ ] Simmons ignored Lopez and looked around for potential allies. He spots an exotic-looking student in a dark-green tailcoat and long black hair tied into a ponytail. For some reason, a strand of hair at the left side of his head is pink. Or magenta, whatever. Currently, he is firing at his opponents and moving acrobatically about with twin handguns with sickle-like blades attached under the barrels. There, that guy looks like friendly enough.

"Hey! Hey you! Guy with that pink hairstrand!" Simmons yelled at the Chinese-looking guy, whatever that means. When he turned his attention towards Simmons, he continued, "You wanna be friends and get out of this mess alive?!"

The stranger gave them a critical gaze, before nodding. "Nora! Fall back! We have allies!"

There is an explosion from the distance, and an orange-haired girl with a kickass hammer flew towards them with a giggle. Once she arrived by his side, fidgeting in excitement to top it off, he began introductions.

"Ren." The stoic boy introduced himself. No further words came from him.

"Ren?" Simmons confirmed.

"Ren." Ren affirmed.

"Simmons." Simmons introduced himself.

"Grif." Grif groaned out.

[Lopez] Lopez buzzed.

"Nora!" The bubbly girl yelled out.

"Nora?" Simmons repeated.

"Nora?" Grif repeated as well.

"Nora!" Nora pointed at herself.

"Ren?" Simmons looked at Ren.

"Nora." Ren confirmed that yes, she is Nora.

"Nora." Simmons nodded.

[…Lopez] Lopez felt lonely and said his name again.

Simmons nodded. "Alright, now we need to find..." He swallowed a deep breath at what is about to come out of his mouth, "...Donut."

"Oh, Donut?" Nora piped up cheerily. "He's over there!"

Donut strolled up to them with a fine smile on his face, his large briefcase swinging about with trickles of blood at the corners. "Howdy doody, Nora-coozy, my explosive friend! Oh hey, guys!~ Look at that, all my merry friends together in one place. Mind if I squeeze myself into this delicious sandwich you've made?"

Simmons and Grif looked at each other in horror, clearly not expecting to find Donut so fast, or rather Donut to find them. Their resident robot has no face to express his emotions.

* * *

Doc is not having a field day. This is the opposite of a field day to him.

To Emily Grey, this went beyond just a field day; it is paradise.

"Look at all of these helpless, injured test subj-, students just waiting for us to treat them, Doc! Wouldn't you say that this is such a wonderful day for us?"

"H-help… I-I can't feel my legs…" A nearby patient whimpered.

"Aww, that's just the adrenaline rush dying down, sweetie. In a few minutes, your Aura should be able to heal you up just fine!"

"I'm o-out of Aura…"

"Now, isn't that wonderful? This is a great time to observe the effects that medical treatments have on Aura-less recipients," Doctor Grey states sweetly. The patients in her immediate proximity felt genuine fear from the angelic smile she radiates to all of the room.

Doc sighed. This is not how he envisioned the day going.

Seriously, who's the asshole that really planned this?

* * *

 **A/N: I have to say, Adderall does a good job making me think sharply and clearly. It's either that, or the placebo effect is working its magic on me.**

 **-DarkAkatsuk1**


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